


You look so well-rested!

by Sumthinelse



Series: Shelter [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Chris Argent, Alpha Derek, Alpha Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Alpha Ennis (Teen Wolf), Alpha Peter, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alpha Vernon Boyd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Stiles, Double Penetration, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, Human Stiles Stilinski, Inspired by Fanfiction, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Milking, Minor Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Multi, Object Insertion, Omega Isaac Lahey, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Vaginal Sex, canonical death, non-graphic child's death (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 147,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumthinelse/pseuds/Sumthinelse
Summary: Dark AUAlan Deaton’s farm had been rescuing, rehabilitating, and releasing wild Weres for years. When the health benefits of the 'essence' of Alphas was discovered, they became more than just exotic pets, they became a valuable commodity. Federal legislation was passed to protect not only the habitats of the wild Weres, but to ensure that captive pets and livestock were treated humanely. If urban development encroached on a pack's land, the construction companies had to pay for them to be trapped and relocated or put with a licensed shelter.It was a win for the Weres, but now came the big question...Where to put them? Deaton's farm was one of the few in Northern California that was licensed to take in wild Weres. It's been a busy summer.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Lydia Martin, Deucalion/Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Ennis/Kali (Teen Wolf), Ennis/OFC, Isaac Lahey/Deucalion, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd/Scott McCall
Series: Shelter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654153
Comments: 105
Kudos: 356





	1. The Farm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ARC](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13543455) by [Udunie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie). 



> This story was inspired heavily by Udunie's ARC. I took too many liberties for it to be considered a sequel, but in spirit it continues from that short story and expands the universe a bit.
> 
> This is unbeta'd. Characters are not mine. Mistakes are. I will update the pairings as they are presented.

Stiles unlocked the side door to the old barn and was prompted by the quiet beeping of the security system to enter his code. He carefully punched it in on the number pad next to the door. The newer section of the stable that housed the bulk of their stock had a better system, but here in the dairy where the milking parlors, the exam room, and the permanent residents lived, it was pretty outdated. 

Stiles didn’t mind; he and Scott were the senior techs, and along with Lydia, they were the only employees who could be in the old barn by themselves, and most employees weren’t allowed in there at all. The farm had once been a small operation run mostly by volunteers and a few staff members, but it had expanded to hold a greater number of Weres since new legislation that protected wild Weres had gone into effect. Ten years earlier, Alphas like the ones that lived there would have been euthanized because they couldn’t be released or adopted for various reasons. Until the health benefits of Alpha essence had been discovered, few people would have been willing or even able to pay the cost of upkeep and containment of the feral creatures. Now that Weres had earned status as both a protected species, and a very valuable resource, the farm was able to offset the expenses with the income produced by the beasts. 

Stiles had been gone for a week to Las Vegas and San Diego for most of the previous week. San Diego had one of the biggest Medi-spa trade shows in the country, and Vegas had hosted a big MMA fight. Though feral, the non-profit farm had some of the most virile registered Alpha Weres who produced not only large quantities, but some of the highest grade essence on the market. They couldn't compete with the mass producing farms for sheer volume of course, or price, but their small batches were starting to sell extremely well. A well-timed article that had done a comparison of ten different products had found that the tiny, non-profit farm in Northern California had the highest quality standards and the best preserved product once for ounce. The orders had doubled overnight and nearly tripled in a week. They'd had to increase bottling and storage, but Lydia had found a way to move the product even faster. They didn't alter their product in any way, but she'd ordered stylish pale cream boxes with delicate green pinstripes and an embossed logo. It had been properly labeled 'Organic and cruelty-free' along with the now accurate claim of the highest quality essence on the market. And in tiny letters: For women only. For after the fight, a sleek black box with a giant 'A' that rose with a phallic flare to the top of the box labeled 'Alpha For Men' Listing itself as the most potent alpha essence in California..

They’d tried out the feminine boxes at the Medi-Spa trade show and the black ones with the thinly-disguised phallic reference in Vegas just after the fight. Stiles had howled with delight when they’d sold out of both. He’d be eating crow for a week because he'd had doubts about the redhead's plan. He carried a bag over one shoulder and had a four-cup beverage holder in his other hand as he let himself into the main office where Lydia sat with an eye on the monitors.

“That had better be my swag,” she said, eyeing the bag. All vendors at the medi-spa convention had been handing out free samples of the newest products, and as promised-because budget strains had meant only one of them could go on the trip-he'd picked up one of everything.

“There's way too much swag for that little bag,” Stiles said, sneering at the tote. “Your swag is currently filling my trunk; I had to buy an extra suitcase. These are just treats for our boys that I grabbed at the farmer’s market on the way here this morning.” He handed her a hot cup of cinnamon-vanilla chai and set the beverage holder down on the desk. He picked up the logbook and sat down at the computer. He pulled up his spreadsheet and started entering the data from the previous week. “Peter’s numbers are missing from the log,” he said, looking at Lydia.

“No, he hasn’t been done yet,” sh ereplied. “He refused to leave his nest for Scott or me. Deaton had an emergency call to attend, so he said to wait till you got back rather than stress Peter out.”

“I hope he doesn’t have knot-block. The output for the others has increased.”

“Isaac’s made a huge difference, we got him at the perfect time and when he has an actual heat spell, it should increase at least another twenty percent.”

“How’s his weight been?”

“Much better now that he can handle a higher protein diet. Scott’s been babying him and making all his meals fresh.”

“How’s he look?”

“Sleek, he’s glowing with health.”

Stiles hurried through his desk work, put his own coffee next to the keyboard, and then took his bag and the other two drinks with him. He could hear Scott’s voice as he approached the stalls that held the long-term residents. He walked into the row and saw the young vet student standing in front of old Duke’s stall. They didn’t put _these_ Alphas directly beside each other, or directly across from each other so empty stalls were between each occupied one and staggered across the row.

Stiles opened the bag he’d brought as he came to he first stall at the other end. Derek’s stall. The lean, young Were gave him a brief glance before going back to examining his claws. He tossed the Alpha’s treat through the bars and the sullen beast slowly got off his bench to investigate, as if he didn’t already know what Stiles had given him. He didn't stare at Derek, who disliked eye-contact, but when he heard the wet, juicy sound of the overripe pear being consumed, he glanced over and tossed in a second. Derek wouldn’t touch a pear until its skin was wrinkled. He was easy to handle now, but he’d been too volatile and moody to house with the other young Alphas when he’d come in. He’d responded poorly to the standard milking practices too, but with some extra care, and fewer crowds, he’d become one of their top producers.

Stiles took a paper lunch bag out of the tote next as he approached Ennis’s stall. The massive Were held the record of being the biggest currently in captivity, and a highly desired breeder. Deaton hated breeding him, he felt it added to the problem, but he’d made an agreement with the owners who had planned to shoot the Were for killing a handler. Deaton kept physical custody of him and was allowed to study him and publish the data, he could also use all profits from milking the monster to put towards his care, and in return, the owners could still sell his stud services selectively during rut.

“Hey, got you some pecans, buddy.”

Ennis held his hand up and Stiles carefully aimed the bag and tossed it through the bars for the Were to catch. Ennis wasn’t just massive and strong he had a mean streak from his early years of being used as an illegal pit fighter. As big as he was, he’d been starved to keep him on edge and was very aggressive towards food. Deaton was the only person allowed to enter his stall alone. Stiles and the others didn’t trust the Were, but they had pity for him and what he’d endured. Once his diet was consistent and plentiful, he’d started to show preferences like leaving his carrots untouched, and always eating bread slowly. Nuts were his special treat; Brazil nuts, pecans and macadamias were his favorite. They didn’t give him too much sugar, but if you wanted Ennis to do something he didn’t want to do, you offered him a praline pecan and he was yours.

“Hey,” Scott said, greeting his friend as Stiles crossed the row to the stalls on the opposite side. Scott stood in front of Duke’s stall with a wheelbarrow of old bedding. Duke was their oldest Alpha, but their easiest to manage. He couldn’t be used for stud anymore because he was blind. The vision problem was the result of an injury, but crooked breeders had been known to injure their own Were to hide a congenital defect so it was standard practice to retire them when something like that happened. A lot of breeders would have euthanized a Were they couldn't breed, but they just didn't have the heart to do it. They'd made a substantial donation when they'd signed him over to the farm to ease their conscience because even after decades with the family, they still weren't keeping him if they couldn't sell his stud services. He came from the pets of British royalty, and even without breeding, his champion bloodlines meant his essence claimed a high price.

“Morning your Grace,” Stiles said, and the lean Were stood up, gracefully with his nose tilted up. He knew their voices and smells, and he knew the layout of his stall so he got around easily. He approached the front of the stall and reached through. Stiles handed him one of the cups he’d brought with him. A discriminating beast raised in an English home, Duke liked sweet, milky tea. Darjeeling was his favorite, but he’d take Earl Gray with only a little grumbling. They watched the Were stroll back to his bench and sip his tea. He sat with one ankle resting on his other knee, and Stiles set the remaining cup-coffee for Scott- on the bench beside the stall for when his friend was finished cleaning.

Boyd was their gentle giant; he’d been abused so they’d had to coax him back to a place where he could trust humans again. He had a chance at a real home, if they found the right owner, but for now, they planned to keep him. He looked shy, but curious as they approached, and Stiles took a few limes from the bag. He handed the bag to Scott and started juggling the fruit, something that always entertained Boyd. He tossed them one by one into the stall and watched the Were juggle them like a pro. Boyd had been part of a traveling circus when the state had rescued him. He could juggle while balancing on a basketball and could do a lot of gymnastic tricks. He was a big, beautiful, dark beast. He had a quiet rumble when he was being groomed and according to Scott, he was silent when he was milked.

“Hey beautiful,” Stiles said when he came to the last stall. Peter was younger than Duke, but in his late thirties. He was a prime specimen of an alpha. He had a thick neck and shoulders, broad thighs and calves and a kind of animal intensity when he watched the humans that stopped them from forgetting that he was an apex predator. He stood very still with his chin lowered and his arms by his sides, fingers flexed, like he wanted to extend his claws. Each Were had a shock collar that zapped them if they shifted. White it couldn't prevent a fatal injury if they were very determined, it prevented most accidental injuries. His blue eyes weren’t lit up with his Alpha fire, but his thick erection looked pretty angry.

“Want help getting him ready?” Scott asked. When the Were heard Scott’s voice, he curled his lip and then put his attention back on Stiles.

“I’m good,” Stiles replied. “Don’t get sassy, he feeds you,” he said to the Were. He reached into his bag and brought out a crisp, red apple. “I brought you a few for when we’re done, you can have one now,” he said, tossing the first one through the bars. Peter didn’t move and the apple bounced off his bench. “Or we can just get right to it.”

“Poor guy. They’re practically clanking together when he walks, Scott said, going into the tack room and putting away his rake. “I’m gonna start on the stable. Got a young Alpha with potential from the last big roundup-his name’s Liam- and a new volunteer…Theo something.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.” Stiles hung up his bag and removed his coveralls once Peter was in the milking stall and in his restraints. A Were was most likely to injure its handler or someone else when in an enclosed space, so milking was done with restraints and most grooming or cleaning and personal care was done outside of the stall. They liked to let the Alphas feel like they had a space that belonged to them. “Looks like I might be here for a while,” he said, seeing that the Were was uncomfortably engorged, like Scott had said. He squirted lube into his hand and warmed it up. "You should've let Lydia milk you." He rubbed Peter’s neck and chest, getting the Alpha used to his touch after a week away. Tense from discomfort, the Were eventually relaxed and pushed his pelvis towards the Omega. It didn’t matter that Stiles took suppressants, Weres could scent him. Most humans couldn’t, so he kept the information to himself. If people thought he just had a natural gift as a milker, it was no skin off his back. Once people heard you were an Omega they got ideas. _Outdated_ ideas.

Stiles worked his hands down the flat stomach and then grasped the thick erection with his lube-slick hand. The Were’s golden skin was gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat and Stiles breathed in the thick pheromones Peter gave off. The week away had lowered his tolerance a little and he felt his own cock twitch. His lust wasn't directed at the Were, it just made him hornier in general. The Were gave a soft grunt and nudged him with his muzzled chin. _Get on with it._

“Right, sorry to hold up the parade,” Stiles said and placed an empty jar on the floor within reach. Peter was ready at that point and he worked the beast’s cock, feeling each ridge and tendon engorged. He felt a little light-headed for a moment and swayed, knocking the jar over. He leaned his shoulder against Peter’s chest to push him backwards while he fumbled for the jar. When he picked it up, he felt hot, moist breath on the back of his neck through the bite-muzzle and his belly clenched with a primal tug. Peter pressed his face into Stiles’ nape, stealing a deep sniff that the Omega wasn’t usually close enough to get.

Stiles pushed back and resumed jerking with his usual flair. A few carefully timed twists, a judicious application of a thumb over the leaking slit, and he was about to go. He had a glove on his other hand already and swiped a finger through the lube, cupping his balls and caressing them before sneaking the finger back and brushing the tight pucker. Peter hated having his ass played-with…until he didn’t. He snarled and tried to snap at Stiles and turn away. “As if you could hide an ass like that, Petey-boy,” he scolded. He skillfully jerked him and pressed his finger inside. It was like a switch was flipped and the Were was coming with a growl. His whole body was tensed as Stiles worked his shaft until the spurting stopped. Then he relaxed, his weight hanging from his restraints and his sweaty forehead brushed against Stiles’s face.

Capping the jar, Stiles washed his hands and adjusted his collar; working with Peter always made him sweaty. He was tempted to stay and give Peter a proper grooming, but he had too much work to catch up on to stay. Deaton would be leaving for a lecture in a few days and they needed to get their newest resident ready.


	2. The New Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief piece from Sheriff Stilinski's POV and background about how a young Omega Were came to the farm, and how he is received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I went back and fixed a few things*  
> This chapter flashes back and is exposition heavy, with some Sheriff Stilinski introspection and then goes back to Stiles's POV. This chapter also ends a week before the start of chapter 1.

Sheriff Stilinski had the responsibility of overseeing the Beacon County office of Were Control. Wild Were encounters were more and more prevalent as their natural habitats were reduced, and the demand for essence had also given rise to the number of incidents involving untrained Were-hunters who were unlucky enough to tangle with a real, wild Were. John had at least two fatal calls per year. It was an improvement considering what had been happening before the laws made it illegal to trap them without a specific license.

Idiot rednecks and thrill-seekers would buy cheap traps and snares, night vision goggles made in China, and go out in the woods looking for Weres. The ones who managed to locate and trap(injure) a wild Were used illegal concoctions of homemade tranquilizers to knock them out while they brought them to whatever poorly prepared cage, basement, or set of chains they’d found on Amazon. If the Were and the idiots survived their initial encounter, it would quickly become apparent that amateurs were badly equipped to try and house-much less milk-a wild Were. The mass captures that were done by the government-licensed hunters had, in all honesty, far better results than the calls he usually got from the WCO-Jordan Parrish.

Ten or fifteen years ago, the calls would have been for a pet that had gone savage, or someone’s guest who didn’t listen to the warnings. After the benefits of essence were discovered, the calls had been even more tragic. The first time he met Parrish, it had been several years earlier at a dry river bed where a pack of Weres had been cornered and slaughtered. Parrish had caught the perpetrators but more than a dozen bodies lay dirty and bloody in a pile; they were mostly females and a few small pups. Illuminated only with flashlights, the bodies had all looked…human. The poachers had kept most of the males alive; injured and sedated, but alive. The majority of the males would have ended up in the riverbed once they'd been checked. They only wanted the Alphas, the rest were…disposable.

A dark-haired pup lay face-down in his mother’s arms as they both grew cold, and John Stilinski had stopped thinking of them as animals. He’d contacted Alan Deaton, bought him a coffee at a diner and they’d talked for hours. Eventually, they came to an understanding.

~

The farm had a big old house where Deaton lived, and where the staff stayed overnight on a rotating schedule when they were crowded, or there was a whelping female. Because they took in strays and injured wild Weres, they were used to getting intake calls in the middle of the night from the WCO or the police. Stiles’s phone rang at around four in the morning; he saw the call was from his father and blinked sleepily.

“Dad?”

“Incoming, unlock the gate.”

“Okay.”

He stumbled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants. He was already sliding his feet into his sneakers when he realized his father hadn’t called the main phone line. He pulled on a hoodie and opened the door to the guest room and came face-to-face with Alan Deaton, who was awake and dressed.

“Unlock the gate, have them come around to the back of the house, not the stable.”

Stiles hadn’t heard the house phone ring, so his dad had likely called Deaton on the Vet’s personal cell phone. It meant they were doing a 'quiet intake'. They rarely talked about them, but it happened from time to time.

The driveway was long, so Stiles got in his jeep and went down to wait. He was surprised when a black SUV came up the road, instead of his dad’s truck. The passenger window lowered and the Sheriff gave him a nod.

“Back of the house, park near the white fence. I’ll meet you.” He gave the driver a surprised look but said nothing to him. They got up to the house and Chris Argent got out; he was one of the best Were-hunters in the country and one of the most well-known. The man opened the hatchback, and without looking at Stiles, he spoke in his usual quiet voice.

“ _You_ should probably be the one to take him inside.”

“Okay.” Stiles reached for the Were, a skinny, dirty young creature wrapped in an old blanket with curly hair that was matted with burrs and mud. He didn’t weigh much, and Stiles carried him up the steps. Chris and Deaton remained on the porch while Stiles took the Were to one of the exam rooms that was located in the small clinic attached to the house for Deaton's non-Were clients. Deaton couldn’t afford to stop his regular vet practice just yet.

Stiles stayed in the clinic and the Sheriff texted when he left; he hadn’t said a word or stepped out of the vehicle during the intake. His name would be left off the documents and if the WCO came by to check on the Were, they would all be telling the truth when they said they only spoke to Chris.

Stiles gently unwrapped the Were from the blanket and sucked in a deep breath. The creature was emaciated and scraped up, like he’d been too weak to heal properly. He was much dirtier than the wild ones, which would have given Stiles a reason to suspect he was a stray if he hadn’t already been wearing a ratty pair of gym shorts. He carefully cleaned the Were’s body and clipped his hair where the burrs were stuck before cutting off the shorts.

Whatever Argent used to sedate him was effective, and he didn’t start to stir until Deaton was examining him. Quiet intakes were done under special circumstances. Taking a Were from its owners in an abuse situation was a difficult and tricky process. They healed so quickly that abuse was almost impossible to prove, so from time to time, a wild creature was brought in by a good Samaritan with the story that they were hit by a car, or caught in a fence. None of the employees at the farm asked how a wild Were managed to find clothes and a collar. And if their injuries involve a scratch to the back of the neck where people microchipped their pets, no one was the wiser.

Finally, after the groggy Were was given I.V. fluids and some puppy formula, he was left to sleep it off in a quarantine room. Deaton finished the paperwork and Stiles signed off as a witness that a wild Were had been brought in after being hit by a car. There had been no sign of previous ownership, and no microchip, but the vet had carefully noted the fact that he’d been very thin and had signs of poor healing. Deaton also listed his status as a Beta because if he’d notified the state office that the wild Were was actually an Omega, they’d lose him for sure.

There was an unofficial bounty on Omega Weres. The massive commercial farms that either milked or bred Weres would pay huge amounts of money for them. Like humans, Omegas were the rarest designation; males who had heats and produced young. Their pheromones could calm a hundred Alphas that were kept in close proximity with few relief Betas to neutralize the aggression. Their treatment, however, was legendary in its callousness. They had a short life span in commercial factories and were miserable. If word got out that the Omega was at the farm before his ownership was validated, they’d have a dozen people from any number of official state offices using whatever excuse and legal clout they could, to get their hands on him. He’d be sold and vanish before Deaton could register a formal complaint. Government work paid too poorly to keep everyone honest.

The farm could send the paperwork to be processed through the state, and once his custody was official, his status could be changed. Poor physical condition could account for a reason that a wild Were's presentation was delayed, and most lay-people wouldn't know the signs. The injured Were had been just on the cusp of pre-heat, and there was nothing in the photographs that would show that.

The Were’s big blue eyes were his most prominent feature, and after calling him ‘Eyes’ for a few days, it became Isaac. He was timid and fearful at first, but curious. A week of regular feedings and careful grooming by Lydia eventually brought the real Isaac out of his shell and Isaac was a little shit. The Were was sneaky, stubborn, and willful, it was no surprise that he responded to the redhead the best. To Scott and Stiles, she quietly theorized that he'd belonged to a woman, because he'd sat still when she'd painted his nails, and tried to join her in the shower. Scott leered at her and suggested he was an opportunist. They also teased Lydia for giving the Weres manicures; which she did from time to time. She claimed it made them look better to potential adopters if it looked like they held still for grooming.

Isaac was so docile that there was no doubt he’d been a house Were for someone who’d spoiled him rotten. He was a picky eater, and regularly tried to steal Deaton's coffee. It also explained why he hadn’t fared well outdoors; he'd never learned to hunt or hide. It was tempting to let the Were keep staying with them in the house, but he had to be among his own kind and get used to being a Were again.

Isaac was only let around Betas in the stable at first, and never in the exercise enclosure with them. As his strength returned during his first week, his pre-heat kicked into gear.

Scott ran out of the bathing room one morning and tossed the scrub brush to Stiles on his way out the door. Stiles peeked in and saw Isaac on hands and knees, _presenting._ The Were was giving the door a confused look, and then looked at himself, clearly wondering what he’d done wrong to make the human Alpha reject him.

“Don’t take it personally,” Stiles said, picking up the towel Scott had dropped. He finished drying Isaac who leaned into the touch and purred. Deaton showed up at the door as Stiles was putting the collar back on.

“Scott tells me our little Beta is suddenly showing signs that he's an Omega," Deaton said, casually. "We should verify it by walking him through the old barn, and make certain we document it today in the log book.” Deaton smiled at Isaac who preened. Stiles picked up the leash but Deaton looked thoughtful as he held up a hand.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to walk Isaac today,” he said. Stiles nodded, guessing the reason. In the presence of multiple Alphas, Isaac might get competitive if another Omega, even one that was human and on suppressants, was too close.

“He’s really obedient with Lydia. Should we ask her?” he looked at his boss who frowned again.

“She…scares the Alphas, sometimes” Deaton said. “I’ll do it.”

Stiles went into Deaton’s office through the door that connected the old barn to the new stable while the vet took Isaac. He picked up his cup of French roast and sipped at heaven while he watched the security cameras and waited. Deaton and the staff believed that an Omega Were’s presence would naturally increase production of essence going into mating season. They would give him some contact with the Alphas during pre-heat, so as not to rush him, and get him comfortable. Isaac did not disappoint.

Usually content to laze about like lions, the Alphas all stood up, and moved to the stall doors when Isaac entered the barn. They didn’t like to get this close to the bars; the low-level current of electricity running through the metal usually repelled them, but they ignored it as Deaton, who’d zipped himself into a scent neutralizing suit, walked Isaac in. The vet walked slowly, leaving Isaac on a loose leash, but the Were might as well have been on a long runway with a stripper pole at the end. And he _worked_ it.

Isaac strutted along looking haughty and graceful at the same time. Duke stood very still in the first stall. His blind eyes were closed, but he followed Isaac with his nose. Next, the usually quiet Boyd actually reached an arm through the bars, trying to touch one of the curls that Lydia spent far too much time styling. Although his massive arms were too large to fit through the bars without touching them, he ignored the discomfort. Isaac slowed and sniffed Boyd’s hand before whipping his head around, letting his curls brush the Alpha’s fingers. He turned his back, continuing along the row of stalls. Ennis was on the other side and he was gripping the bars, tightly, as if there was no stinging current, possibly to show-off. Isaac seemed to sense that the big Alpha had a few screws loose because he pretended the giant wasn’t there.

There was an empty stall between Ennis and Derek, who was near the bars, but not pressed against them. Stiles noticed that his eyes were wide, but they weren’t red. He looked surprised, and he shifted back and forth on his feet. Since he usually showed about as much emotion as Deaton, he might as well have been jumping up and down. Isaac was across the row so he hadn't reached Derek yet. Stiles licked his lips and felt an odd heaviness settle in his chest as Isaac focused on Peter, who stood very still at the front of his stall. The Alpha was curious, but he looked around, focusing on Deaton and sniffing carefully. Then, the stocky Were’s body language relaxed and took on more casual posture that indicated Isaac was of _some_ interest, but only because he was new.

Stiles laughed out loud and the odd tightness in his chest eased a little, for some reason the idea of Isaac taking his place in Peter's affections bothered him. He'd been Peter's handler for several years now, and had a bond with him. He picked up his coffee cup and sipped the brew as Isaac went to the last stall. Moments later, he was on the edge of his seat, and wished for popcorn.

“Stiles?” Lydia slipped into the office behind him. “Did you see Derek?”

“I’m watching him now, holy crap, it’s like they’re both doing the pee-pee dance.” Isaac wasn’t sashaying anymore he was standing up straight and flailing as awkwardly as Stiles on too many Adderall. Derek was rocking from side to side like he was trying to get a better look at Isaac. Lydia had a bag of white cheddar popcorn in her hands-she was always prepared-she held it out and Stiles took a handful.

“If they had tails, they’d be wagging,” she said. “I’ve never seen Derek react to anything like this, good or bad, not even when I painted his toenails.” Lydia was Derek's handler and he tolerated her grooming. Mostly.

“Why, what did he do then?”

“He shit in the corner and stuck his feet in it.”

Stiles inhaled a flake of popcorn kernel and choked spectacularly as he tried to cough and laugh at the same time at the thought of the fastidious Were deliberately stepping in his own waste. Lydia gave Stiles a _look_ and turned her attention to the screen. Through watering eyes he saw Deaton do something the vet had cautioned them against doing. He entered the code to turn off the current.

“No. Way.” Lydia's mouth dropped open. As soon as the current was gone, Derek lunged forward and caught Isaac, who had done the same thing, in a tight embrace. The omega wasn’t trying to posture, and he wasn’t trying to tease, he just tilted his head to the side and submitted. Derek pulled him close and pressed their foreheads together.

“They know each other,” Stiles said, fascinated. “Derek’s been here for years; maybe they’re family.”

“Pack,” Lydia whispered. “That’s how packmates greet each other.”

“Oh my God.” Stiles barely noticed when he knocked his coffee cup on the floor. “It’s like when Christian the lion’s old owners go see him in the wild.” He stared with an open mouth as the two Weres desperately tried to scent each other. “I’m gonna cry.” He glanced at Lydia who was blinking furiously. “Are you okay?”

“Shut up, I’m pre-menstrual.”

Stiles and Lydia watched as Deaton led a reluctant Isaac away from the stall. They were a few steps away when Derek’s arm pushed through the re-electrified bars. Trembling, he held out a manky, yellow blanket. Isaac was close enough to take it, and he did, pressing his face against the Alpha’s hand, enduring his share of the electric current that was passing through Derek. Lydia sniffled, and Stiles pretended not to hear it. The yellow blanket, which had been orange once, stayed in Derek’s stall. They washed it once in a while, but only with hot water and mild soap, and only when it was really nasty. It was _Derek’s blanket_. And he had given it away.

Each Alpha had a few items in his stall that he was allowed to keep. Various blankets and cushions, and in Ennis’ case a stuffed purple donkey. They liked their _things_ because when the bedding was changed, they needed something that smelled familiar. Deaton had demonstrated the importance of the personal possessions by switching one item from Duke’s stall with Ennis’s. Ennis treated Duke’s cushion like a toilet and hurled it with surprising accuracy though the bars of his own stall, and into Duke’s. In retaliation, the purple donkey suffered a violation that should have required a censorship. Stiles and Scott had skipped lunch that day.

Deaton and Isaac paused outside the front door that led to the office and the vet secured the leash before opening the door to the office and stepping inside. He smiled at Lydia and Stiles.

“Did you see that?”

“Could Derek be his Alpha?” Lydia asked.

“How can that be?” Stiles asked. “Derek came to us from…” He paused and met Deaton’s stoic gaze, “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Stilinski will be a little more important later on. So will Chris Argent.


	3. It's not porn if we're scientists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac in heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating the pairings as I go. A reminder that the chapters are not in precise chronological order.  
> This Chapter picks up after the events that happened in chapter one. Chapter two was a flashback.

Mating season was roughly from mid-September through the first week or two of November, but the behaviors associated with it could be more exaggerated before and after. Isaac wouldn’t be constantly seeking a partner but was much more easily aroused. His skin was more sensitive and he would have bursts of energy and lethargy to cope with the surge in his hormones. He was flushed a healthy pink, with bright eyes and hotter skin, but without Alpha contact, his symptoms would stop there. Stiles could relate; even on suppressants, it was still possible to experience some of the symptoms. He’d left for the trade show just after Isaac presented and the young Were went into full heat just after he got back.

The effect Isaac had on the Alphas’ production was excellent. Just in his pre-heat week, he’d nearly doubled the Alphas’ output. It was especially good since breeding season came just before the holidays, and Stiles’s trip had led to a major bump in online orders. They needed to carefully plan how to manage the Omega to make sure he stayed safe and wasn’t over-stressed during his heat.

Deaton had given Isaac a shot to prevent implantation, but they still didn’t want any of the Alphas to actually mount him just yet. If he smelled like he’d been bred by one Alpha, even if there was no pregnancy, the other Alphas could become aggressive towards him. The last thing they wanted was for Isaac to have a bad experience during his first heat. They didn’t want to tease the Omega too much either, or he’d become anxious by failed attempts to be bred.

Scott led the process, supervised by Deaton, and during his first heat week, Isaac was doing very well. Deaton and Scott spent every spare minute working at the regular practice and documenting his progress. Stiles had taken over most of the administrative work and had been training some of the employees to help with milking the younger Alphas, so he hadn't been able to observe the Omega's progress.

Stiles’ fingers were starting to cramp from the number of milkings he assisted. Even though the Betas didn't get knot-block, they had an uptick in their activities during the season and there were usually a few who would be painfully engorged and need assistance because of the stress of captivity. Theo, the newest volunteer seemed bright and interested in the work. He also didn't seem squeamish about getting his hands dirty, and Stiles was relieved that he didn't need to babysit this one, but something about the Beta gave him the creeps. Theo had been placed at the head of the line for volunteers because a relative of his had made a substantial donation to the shelter. Deaton wouldn't have taken him for this reason alone, but Theo was quite competent and worked hard, and the shelter had a lot of bills to pay after the farm had been expanded. Stiles was polite to the guy, but somehow the volunteer seemed like he was trying too hard. He tried to shake the feeling, since he needed the help in the stables, and eventually had no excuse not to leave Theo to do the stable feedings on his own.

On the third day of Isaac’s heat, Stiles suited up in his own neutral scented coveralls to see the Were’s progress. He joined Scott who stood outside Duke’s stall. The Alpha human was making encouraging noises. When he got closer, Stiles was surprised by what he saw.

“You put Duke in Chastity?” Stiles asked. Chastity devices were occasionally used on new Alphas who were being trained for scheduled milkings because it stopped them from spilling essence before it could be collected. They’d never needed it on Duke, who was too well-trained for youthful shenanigans.

“He’s been cranky about it since Monday,” Scott said. “But that’s what happens when you rub one out and waste valuable resources.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head, sadly. “Duke’s the pro, so we let Isaac get close to him. They were both being good, and then when we took Isaac away, Duke jerked it out of petulance.” He raised his voice a little. “You just shot your dick's freedom in the straw, didn’t you, Duke?” The older Were didn’t respond, he was far too busy.

Isaac had been let into the empty stall between Boyd and Duke. For today, Duke seemed to have caught his attention. The electrical current had been reduced, and they’d been allowed to sniff and touch each other through the bars. Isaac had been curious about the chastity device; he’d sniffed it and once or twice tried to lick Duke through it. Duke had been patient, but direct in his own attention, rubbing his palm against the Omega’s neck and shoulder and deliberately brushing lightly over his nipples. Isaac moved forward, leaning into the touches and Duke withdrew, a little at a time, drawing the Omega forward.

“Is he gonna fall for that trick?” Stiles wondered, aloud. “Sneaky Alphas, I should have a talk with our boy there. Always got only one thing on their minds. An Omega can't trust any of them.”

“Are you kidding?” Scott asked. “Isaac’s totally into it. He’s just pretending he doesn’t know what’s on that Alpha’s mind. He knows what he's doing, showing his ass like that.” Both men fell silent after a moment, realizing they'd both casually tossed out each other's worst stereotypes.

Duke sat on the floor and put his face close to the bars. Isaac sniffed his face and gently licked his eyelids. Duke nuzzled the Omega and rumbled patiently. He started grooming Isaac and petting him, running his hands over the Omega’s lean flanks. He rubbed circles along his back and gently pushed and prodded the younger Were until he was sitting with his back to the bars.

“His Grace has serious game,” Scott said, turning to Stiles. “He knows what to do to push all of the Omega buttons. Isaac didn’t stand a chance.”

“I dunno, you haven’t seen him con Lydia into sharing her coffee,” Stiles replied, patting Scott on the shoulder and accepting the Alpha's apology. "Isaac's inexperienced, but he's had contact from Boyd and Duke. He's playful with Boyd, but he's been much more interested in Duke." He didn't want his friend to think he believed all Alphas were the same. They turned back to watch the spectacle. “Omegas are so rare, I've never seen an un-mated Omega with an Alpha, and no un-mated Omegas outside of a breeding farm.”

Duke had both hands on Isaac’s back. He rubbed all along the younger Were’s spine from top to bottom. Each stroke pushed the Omega’s ass up a little higher. Isaac blinked slowly, looking dazed and sleepy. Eventually, he started to push up against his hands when they got near his pert, little, Omega bottom. His legs shifted so his knees were under them and whined each time Duke’s hands went up to his shoulders. His chest was flushed and his hands trembled as he dropped down and presented.

“That was less than ten minutes, you owe me five bucks, McCall.”

Neither man had heard Lydia leave the office and they both turned to greet her. Scott moved to the side so she could stand in front of him and fished the cash out of his pocket.

Duke might have been unable to access his dick when it was chained up, but he was making do with what he had. Isaac was on his knees and elbows with his ass pressed against the bars while Duke had his face buried between the Omega’s pale cheeks.

“Check it out,” Stiles said. “he’s still got tan lines from wearing shorts.” He snorted as the omega pushed back with a purr as he was voraciously eaten out by Duke.

“We’ve got to let him get some sun before Parrish comes to see him,” Scott added. “My cousin has a UV lamp,” he said over the rising pitch of Isaac’s noise, “maybe I can borrow it.”

“Put one of his heat aids on the wall and shine the lamp down onto it. That pasty bootie will brown up like toast in no-time; look at him go, he’s a champ.”

Stranger conversations had been carried on during far weirder events than how to tan an Omega Were’s ass to keep his former owners from re-claiming him.

They both turned back to see Isaac’s hands scrabbling on the straw bedding in his attempt to push himself backwards onto Duke’s tongue.

“Good job Duke!” Scott said, taking a green banana out of the pocket of his coveralls. “Treat!” He tossed the slightly under ripe fruit through the bars which the Alpha caught deftly despite being A) Blind, and B) dimples deep in Isaac’s ass.

“When did he start liking bananas?” Stiles asked, wrinkling his nose. “Especially unripe ones.”

“It’s not for him,” Scott said with a smug smile. He kept his gaze on Stiles and laughed when Isaac began to squeal and Stiles’ eyes got as round as saucers.

“Holy Mother of Christ,” Stiles said as Deaton joined them. “I knew they could use basic tools, but this is unbelievable.”

“They’re developing a complex social dynamic,” Deaton said, nodding to the Omega currently being enthusiastically serviced with a _Musa acuminate._

“Not only that,” Stiles said, stepping to one side and pointing at the two Weres, “Duke’s got it pointed the _right_ way.” Scott looked confused for a second as he eyed the rapidly disappearing and reappearing banana, which was being liberally applied in the ‘rainbow’ position rather than the ‘Meniscus’.

“Oh, right.”

“What’s even more fascinating Stiles,” Deaton said, gesturing to the Were pair, “was to observe their early attempts and how they communicated to find compromise.”

“Oh yeah,” Scott said. “Isaac was the shyest little virgin, when we first put him in here during pre-heat, he didn't know how to ask for what he wanted.” He looked at Deaton who nodded.

“It’s interesting that the Alpha is gaining nothing from the encounter, nor from the previous ones. He’s likely trying to get Isaac to associate submitting to him with getting something he wants.”

“How many steps ahead can they plan?” Stiles asked.

“Depending on their exposure to opportunities to problem solve, I’ve seen them surpass what ravens and higher primates can do.” Deaton smiled pleasantly.

When a job required manual stimulation of apex predators to the point of ejaculation upwards of a dozen times weekly, graphic discussions about sexual behavior became mundane, and when employees were excited about witnessing a new sexual behavior, it really was because they were scientists.

“Scott’s helping me edit the footage to present at a symposium I’m attending just after rut ends for this year.” Deaton inclined his head at Scott. “I expect it will be very popular.” Despite how significant the findings were, everyone knew why Bonobo chimp videos were so popular.

Ennis was glowering from his stall and Boyd was staring, openly fascinated. Isaac was young and it didn’t take much before he finished. He seemed surprised that semen was squirting out of his dick when the stimulation had been someplace else. He petted and caressed Duke and poked sadly at the cage around the Alpha’s junk. He purred and Scott said he didn’t have the heart to separate them so quickly. Duke’s soothing rumbles and strokes against Isaac’s chest as he leaned back against the bars reinforced Deaton’s theory that he was aware that this encounter was going to end with only one satisfied Were.

Scott called Isaac over, and reluctantly the Were obeyed. Scott leashed him and rubbed his head affectionately as they came out of the stall. He was a little wobbly on his legs until Scott reached around and pulled out the banana. He tossed it into a trash can on the way out, promising Isaac a real heat ait in the morning.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you one with the biggest knot! You’re gonna love it. But first, we need to get you a tan.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Lydia said, snapping on a glove and brandishing an empty jar. “I have it on good authority that we’re going to have a surprise visit from the WCO next Friday.”

“Any idea what time?” Stiles asked.

“According to the court docket, there’s a hearing for Were cruelty at ten, and Parrish is a witness.” She glanced at her phone and scrolled. “He has a dog shelter inspection an hour north of here at three P.M., so I think it’s a good bet he’ll be here between ten-thirty and two.” She pocketed her phone and walked down the row to Derek’s stall. “I’ll handle him.”

“Let Scott know about the visit so we can be ready,” Deaton said. “You and I will probably have a lot of work to do between ten and two.” Stiles grinned at his boss’s almost evil smile.

“Parrish sweats like a hooker in church when he's with Lydia.”

“She might be the only one who’ll be available to show him around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know about any errors. Also, feel free to remind me if I missed any tags.


	4. Lydia introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more background from Lydia's perspective, and the plot moves forward slowly.

Lydia had always been an early riser. Her parents had lamented how difficult it had been to get her to go to sleep, and then how frustratingly early she rose in the morning as a child. She was never one who could easily shut off her mind, and she’d learned to focus it. Answers hadn’t always come easily to her, but theories had. She had always needed to understand _why_ things happened. Cause and effect were her guiding stars, and with mathematics, things were simple; there were rules. With economics, there were patterns and predictions. Surprises happened only because there was a factor you didn’t account for, and she was someone who liked looking at the big picture.

Everyone had their reasons for working at the farm. Stiles had started volunteering there with his father after his mother had died. It was easy for Lydia to imagine a boy who was fascinated by the strength and fierceness in the Weres. As someone small who had understood helplessness, he must have been amazed the first time one of the Weres sought out his touch. As powerful and dangerous as they had the potential to be, they were social, and needed contact; if not from their own kind, then from their captors. _I will bow to you if you’ll care_. She admired the man he was now. Confident, clever and always thinking, just like Lydia. He adored the Weres as a species, and he never resented anything about their care, no matter how difficult, but it wasn’t blind devotion. Stiles wasn't like some of the weird girls she’d known at school who lived and breathed horses, and never wanted to talk about anything else. With him, it was thoughtful wonder.

Scott McCall had clearly always wanted to be great at something, and he had more compassion and empathy than anyone Lydia had ever met. He was sweetly blind to the horrors that existed in so many of the humans around him. He was naive enough to have been confused at first about why Boyd and Derek behaved the way they had when they'd first arrived. The Weres could heal from almost any physical injury, and when 'abuse' had been mentioned, the young man had only pictured the animals being beaten or starved. His compassion used to blind him to the ways some people treated Weres. His big heart would would make him a good vet, and he was already a good handler for Weres, but it made him a terrible judge of human character. Understanding people meant you had to have a little darkness around your heart. A shadow that remained after you were exposed to the depths of human depravity.

Boyd responded best to Scott, but Derek was Lydia's. She wasn’t the only one to milk Derek, but she got the best results. She had also been the first one to get Derek to eat. She’d been patient, but not pushy, and she hadn’t tried to touch him too much. His purpose at his previous owner's home became clear when he got knot block after only a week in their care. Lydia had let Derek remain in soft restraints while she patiently coaxed out enough essence that he was comfortable. She didn’t take too much, but she came back the next day and Derek didn’t shake as much when she milked him. The third day he stood still but didn’t look at her. She remembered seeing a similar look of shame on the face of her own pet Were, Jackson when they were thirteen. She'd continued to sneak him into her bed long after her parents told her he had to start sleeping in the crate at night. She hadn’t understood why, and later hadn't understood what had happened while they'd been sleeping, but she did now, and it had changed the way she'd viewed them.

Lydia never groomed Derek on milking days. She didn't wanted to use it as a reward for doing something he hated. He enjoyed most of the grooming, occasionally purring softly when she washed his hair and rubbed his scalp, but he pretended he didn’t, and she pretended she believed his sullen glares and the occasional show of fangs; she also pretended that he didn’t cling to her when he spilled his essence; that he didn’t nuzzle her softly before he recovered.

~

Since the Alphas in the old barn couldn’t be exercised with the betas and young Alphas, they had to be given their play time with their handlers. Duke and Boyd were fine together in the enclosure. So were Derek and Boyd and even Derek and Duke. Peter and Derek played together well enough most of the time. Derek would try to stay aloof, but Peter always pestered him into a wrestling match, or got him to chase by stealing a toy. Derek always relented in the end and they exhausted themselves when they were sent out together. During Mating season, they were both a little touchier and sometimes Peter wasn’t allowed to play with the other Weres.

Scott came into the office with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles was at the computer with a stack of bills in his hand. Scott raised an eyebrow. “What did _he_ do now?” He didn't have to ask which Were caused problems.

“Second day in a row he’s taken a swing at Derek. Derek’s pouting and Lydia’s probably going to have to pet him for an hour before he’ll come out of his sulk.” He sighed. “Peter needs to get worn out, and I have to get Duke and Boyd exercised today.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Stiles never wanted his co-workers to feel like he was shirking his duties because of the administrative stuff he handled. “Where is he?”

“I’d only just brought him in when he tried to a slash Derek's legs.” Scott shook his head. “It was like he was looking for an opportunity to start some shit.”

"Not Peter," Stiles mocked. "He'd never stir up trouble." Scott smiled gratefully when he got out of his chair. “I’ll go out.”

The exercise ring was completely enclosed, with a roof and a set of bleachers that were open, but a circle of mountain ash kept the Weres from taking any exit or entrance than the door, so Peter was alone when the Omega went in. There was some risk involved, but it was far less dangerous than milking, or in their stalls when they were more likely to be territorial. He’d brought a ball with him to try and get the Alpha moving and tossed it in the enclosure ahead of him. Because he was a senior tech, and because he knew that Weres would always be potentially dangerous, Stiles exercised appropriate caution. He made sure he had eyes on Peter before he swiped his security card and walked into the enclosure because Peter was naturally more trouble than most. Peter was on top of the piled-up straw bales that made up a small obstacle course. He was crouched on the top of a twelve-foot stack like it was Pride Rock.

Stiles was certain that Peter was posing for effect. He lunged, back-arched and head back, knowing how the afternoon light cast him in a golden glow. He was even more certain, as he blew in his hands to warm them, that Peter was also showing off his ability to remain well-endowed even on a brisk day with no heat in the enclosure. Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and gave his rapidly shrinking balls an apologetic pat as he approached the bales. The Alpha gave a little extra stretch with his legs and let his flaccid member bump the straw bale. Stiles imagined the thunking sound that he was too far away to hear.

“Get down here, beast,” he said, pulling an apple out of his pocket. Peter tilted his head and curved his body around like a snake. He eyed the apple but after watching Stiles, he sniffed and looked away. “Suit yourself.” Stiles turned and started walking away, taking a bite out of the apple. It was crisp and juicy, and the perfect texture for making the bite as noisy as possible. The thing with Peter was, if you expected to catch him, you couldn’t let him know you wanted to.

A nose bumped Stiles’s butt and he tripped forward, dropping the apple, which Peter caught before dashing away. Stiles could have caught himself but opted to pitch forward into the sandy floor and roll onto his back. “Well, that’s it. You win.” He folded his hands under his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I guess it’s one of those days where I get to do nothing and take a nap for an hour. Lucky me.” He saw Peter out of the corner of his eye, eating the apple and holding it in front of him, like he gloated over his capture of it.

Stiles didn’t react and naturally the Were came closer. Stiles whistled to himself, a usually effective draw, but Peter was either craftier, or just plain crabby, and didn’t take the bait. He didn’t have any more apples, and Peter likely knew it, but the Were didn’t know that he had _nothing_ else of value. Stiles patted his pockets and then gasped. He rolled onto his front and hunched over, peeking into his cupped hand and then climbed to his feet, taking a furtive look over his shoulder before scurrying over towards the door.

Peter landed on the floor in front of Stiles, blocking his exit. His eyes flickered to Stiles’s cupped hands, which he quickly shoved in his pants pockets. He took them out after a moment and held up his palms, showing the Were that they were empty. He sidled towards the door, but Peter hunched his shoulders and skittered to the side, blocking him again. Stiles casually took two steps in the other direction before doing a quick feint and dodge and jumping towards the exit.

Peter was there faster, and Stiles turned around and sprinted towards the other side of the ring. The idea was to get the Weres moving and running and mentally stimulated. Stiles ended up flattened to the sand with an Alpha pawing at him. Peter had only one thing on his mind: whatever the fuck Stiles was hiding in his pants. His big hands went into the rear pockets and then he flipped Stiles over onto his back to poke at the front ones.

“Easy there, Petey,” Stiles said, protecting his junk. “Watch the jewels.” He batted playfully at Peter’s scrambling fingers and in retaliation, Peter shoved his hand down the front of the human’s pants. Stiles yelped and tried to scramble away, but now Peter had hold of something precious, and he wasn’t about to let go.

“Need some help Stiles?” Deaton’s voice held a note of amusement.

“Aaaah, ha ha, that tickles, Ah! No, I think I’m good.” Deaton was waiting with Ennis so Stiles deployed his secret weapon to end the play. He licked his finger and stuck it in the Were’s ear. Peter immediately recoiled and leapt away. “Made the mistake of pretending I had something in my pocket,” he got slowly to his feet. “I think my future children flashed before my eyes,” he said as the Vet eyed him from over the half-door. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t use his claws.” Deaton was slightly reproachful. “Ennis here's got as much cabin fever as the rest. Come on out and we’ll let them play.”

Ennis was often a solo exercise guy. He was also so physically impressive, that some of the employees and volunteers would stop what they were doing to watch him during their breaks. If he played with any other Were one-on-one, it was usually Peter. Peter was smaller, and probably weaker (it was hard to tell) but he was the only one that could handle Ennis on a bad day. Derek could handle Ennis on a good day, but clearly didn't like his closest neighbor. Stiles stepped out, giving the big Were wide berth. Deaton walked the Were in and set him loose.

A few people were gathered in the observation bleachers, Stiles could make out Theo, a girl named Tracy who had long, brown hair, and a skinnier kid whose name he couldn’t remember. They were cheering on the Weres as Peter and Ennis raced around each other. Peter was faster, but when they eventually started tumbling over each other, play-fighting and wrestling, Ennis’s long arms gave him the advantage. Overall, they were well-matched in relative strength, but Peter was essentially peerless when it came to sneakiness.

They both sought the high ground and were climbing the bales to reach the top. Peter got there first and roared. Ennis grabbed his ankle and Peter lost his balance. The smaller Were picked up a straw bale and swung it like it was a tennis racket. It burst when it struck Ennis who looked like he was wearing a blonde wig as some of the straw caught up in the string draped over his head. Peter managed to get both of Ennis’s hands in his as he looked down from the top of the bales. They growled at each other and Theo stood up and shouted.

“Long live the king!”

Even Deaton laughed when Peter inadvertently followed the Lion King plot and tossed Ennis off the bales. Peter went off-script at that point and jumped down to land on the bigger Were. They wrestled and snapped at each other as Ennis seemed to get more playful and less serious about ripping Peter apart. It was progress they'd been trying to make with him for over a year. The hour flew by and Deaton entered the ring with Stiles. They called out to their charges and Ennis dashed over with mischief in his eye. Stiles saw it a moment too late and couldn’t dodge quickly enough when Ennis pulled his foot out from under him.

Stiles was sprawled out and grunted when Ennis nearly tossed him a foot, the Were version of batting him around like a toy mouse. He then butted Stiles playfully who rubbed his head as he waited for his breath to come back. The exchange took barely a moment before a hot, sweaty, sticky, and straw-covered Peter was crouched over him and Ennis was flying backwards. Peter ran a sticky, wet hand over his face and neck, it burned and tingled where he touched, and smeared a trail of something over him. The Were was growling with his eyes fixed on Ennis. The bigger Were was on all fours, hunched over against the wall, covering his broad chest with his arm.

Accidents happened with Weres. It was the same with any animal, on farms, in zoos, or even with pets; sometimes people got injured, and sometimes other animals did.

“I’m okay,” Stiles called out to Deaton, as he tried not to move. “Get Lydia, we’ll be okay here.” He pressed a hand to Peter’s chest and felt the same jolt of pain. He drew back his hand and held it out towards the bleachers where there was more movement. “Stay there! You’ll only make him territorial.” He could see Theo with one foot at the top of the enclosure pen.

“Stiles! Are you hurt?” the young man called, sounding worried.

“I’m fine, Theo. The blood…the blood’s not mine.” He was a little out of breath, and each time he came into contact with Peter-skin to skin contact-he burned and his muscles cramped up. The Were didn’t seem to notice, he still had his eyes on Ennis. Deaton approached Ennis with slow, smooth strides and unbuckled his belt while he walked. Stiles’s view was upside down, but he still caught some of the action.

Deaton reached a hand out towards Ennis, the big Were flinched and lashed out at the vet. And then, somehow, Ennis was on his back and Deaton was kneeling by his side. He could hear his boss speaking quietly to the Were, and the creature stopped trembling. A flash of red at the door, and Lydia was there with an injector.

“Is he alright?” Stiles asked, quietly.

“He’s fine, he just won't heal as fast as usual,” Deaton’s voice was soft. “If you please, Lydia?”

“Which one?”

“The injured one is a bit more volatile right now.”

“The other one has his claws out.” Lydia’s comment had Stiles looking up at Peter’s face. He was shifted with a mouthful of fangs and his prominent facial display was engaged. His claws were out as well. Stiles started talking to him softly and the Were looked at his trembling hand, muscles spasming from the collar's electricity, and shifted back. The red light on the collar switched off, and Peter relaxed. He settled his weight on Stiles’s torso to watch as Ennis was sedated, and then looked back at his handler before leaning down to sniff his face and neck.

“If you try to lick me, Peter, I’m not gonna be very-Ugh!” He pushed at the Were and sat up, taking the leash out of his pocket. “I’m putting him back,” he said to Deaton and Lydia. He looked down at Peter who was giving his-now clawless- digits a look of disgust, like he’d just stuck his hand in something gross. Which-okay, he had.

The human brought the Were back to his stall, ignoring it when Peter tried to go to the bathing room, which was their usual stop after exercise. When they returned, the confused Were attempted to go into the milking room next. Stiles knew his hands were shaking, but he couldn’t stress Peter out any more than he already was, so he rubbed his chest and neck and ran his nails across his scalp, making him push his head into the touch. He put him in the stall and slipped the collar off just before shutting him in.

Stiles went to the office and then sat down, hands shaking, and took a few breaths. He touched his own neck, realized he was smeared with blood too, and then pushed out of the chair and walked out the door that went to the stables. He saw Theo coming back in with the others and gave him a quick wave, holding him off while he dashed into the bathroom and headed for the showers. He pulled off his hoodie and shirt and heard the squeak of a pair of sneakers on the tile behind him. He turned and flinched when he saw how close Theo was.

“Hey,” the young man said, looking concerned. “What do you need? Towel, soap, and some clothes?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’ll be right back, and I’ll tell everyone to stay out.”

“Okay.”

Stiles turned the hot tap on and turned to sit on the bench and remove his shoes. He set them on the bench where they would stay dry and peeled off his socks, and then his pants and underwear. His breath caught in his chest and he felt a heaviness setting in as he gasped for breath. He stumbled to the now-steaming shower head and stepped under it. The sting and burn were enough of a shock to stave off the panic attack, and he adjusted the temperature. He stood still, letting the water cover him and warm him. At first his hands still felt like they were burning, because they’d been cold, but then he closed his eyes and moved the rest of himself under. He heard the door creak again.

“Theo?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Stiles turned back to the wall but was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at the Beta who held out a washcloth. Stiles’s hands were shaking. “Just hold still, you’ll be clean in a minute, okay?” He just nodded as the other man soaped up the cloth and gently rubbed his shoulder where he could feel the crusted blood pulling at his skin. “Let me see your side,” Theo coaxed, patiently. Stiles forgot he was holding his arm against his side and heard the hiss of sympathy when he raised it. He didn’t want to look at where Ennis had thumped him. It hadn’t been terrible at the time; he’d been too focused on his responses and making sure he’d given Ennis the affection he’d been clumsily seeking.

Theo washed Stiles’s back and firmly squeezed the muscles in his upper shoulders and along his upper arms. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” His hand went to the back of his neck and clasped it firmly. “Stiles?” He gave a squeeze and the Omega relaxed.

“I’m good, thanks.” He was grateful, but wanted the Beta to leave. “Can you hand me the towel?”

“You’ve still got some blood on your face,” Theo said and placed his fingers under Stiles’s chin to turn him until they were facing each other. The young man’s blue eyes were focused on Stiles’s cheek and his eyebrows were pushed together in concern as he scrubbed at a spot. “Okay, I think you’re good.” He stepped back. “I grabbed you some scrubs from the clinic, they’re by your shoes.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll get the towel.”

Stiles turned off the water and ran his hand through his hair. It was a little sticky from the hair product he’d put in it that morning. He hadn’t washed it out, so getting his hair wet just made a mess. Theo returned and handed Stiles a towel which went immediately around his waist. He wasn’t usually modest in the locker room, but he was definitely feeling vulnerable. “Do you want me to go get Scott?”

“No,” Stiles replied. “I’ve got to go back and see Deaton.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“There’s still work to do. I’ll be fine.” He watched Theo leave and dried himself off before getting dressed in the scrubs and heading back to Deaton’s office. Ennis was sedated and Deaton was leaning over the big Were when Stiles slipped into the exam room.

“How are you, Stiles?”

“Okay,” he said, shifting his shoulders around. Scott came in with his serious face on. The Alpha nodded to Deaton and used surgical glue on the deepest gouges.

“Peter really did a number on him.” Scott was carefully squeezing the glue as Deaton clamped the bloody gash closed. Stiles moved up to the beast’s head. Even while unconscious, Ennis looked fierce.

“Timing was shit,” Stiles added, placing his palm on the Were’s shaved head. “I’m not usually that close to him, and he engaged in play behavior.”

“I’ll be checking your ribs later, thank you for reminding me,” Deaton said, not looking up. “You’re right, and I commend you for recognizing it, and staying calm.”

“What happened?” Scott asked, looking up as he finished the gouge he was working on.

“Peter was frisking Stiles for treats when we joined them,” Deaton began. “I think that’s where Ennis got the idea.”

“It nearly turned into a body cavity search,” Stiles muttered.

“Ennis and Peter got quite vigorous, but neither was hostile when we called them in,” Deaton went on, pinching a short, but deep gash that looked like it had glanced off Ennis’s rib. “Ennis got side-tracked and tried to bat Stiles around the place.”

“ _Tried?_ ” Stiles sneered. “I went flying like a rolled up ball of paper.” Deaton smiled in amusement.

“After Stiles _landed_ ,” the vet gave Scott a smirk, “Ennis initiated some physical affection. He was neither hostile nor did he seem to be aware of injury.”

“And that’s when Peter went ‘Mama wolf’ on him?”

“Like I was his cub,” Stiles said, nodding. “Once he could tell Ennis was down, and the spectators weren’t coming in, he just laid himself down on my chest.” He shook his head. “One step forward, and two steps back with Ennis.”

“We’ll see when he wakes up,” Deaton said, picking up a syringe. “I’m going to draw up some blood and do some tests on him while we’ve got him under. Stiles, do you feel like you can take Peter to the bathing room?”

“Yeah.”

“If you want to go up to the house and throw your clothes in the washer first, that’s fine.”

“Actually, that would be great,” he said, glancing at Deaton’s scrubs. “Did you get blood on your clothes?”

“Yes, they’re on the chair in my office. I pre-treated them with a stain stick I keep handy. That’s in the middle drawer on the left side if you want it.”

When Stiles was ready for Peter, he took the eager Were to the bathing room with a new shock collar. Peter stood patiently while Stiles put on a plastic smock and rubber boots. Nobody stayed dry when bathing a Were. Once the water was warmed to where the Alpha liked it, he sat Peter on the bathing bench and started washing his hair. A deep, rumbling purr came out of the beast as his short, wavy hair was shampooed and rinsed. Stiles used a soft cloth to wash his face and mouth. Peter took a mouthful of warm water and spat it at his handler.

“Now he’s a comedian,” Stiles chided as he used a medium-soft brush to soap up and scrub the Were's body. They used mild soap, so the Were’s own scents weren’t completely diminished, but paid careful attention to their feet and hands. Peter’s feet were ticklish, so Stiles had to stick the shower head in its holder, hunker down and rub the Alpha’s feet with a rough cloth instead of the brush. He used a nail brush when he got to the hands, and carefully scraped blood from around the flat, human nails while he let the warm water run over the Were. When they were finished and it was time to dry off, he used a thinner, cheaper towel with a stiff texture because Peter liked it rough. The Alpha shivered as Stiles went down his legs with it and patted his junk dry, and then they returned to the stall.

Stiles put his and Deaton’s clothes in the dryer and returned to fill out an incident report. When he was finished, Deaton called him into the clinic. Stiles tried to weasel out of it by asking if he should see a human doctor, but Deaton reminded him that human and Were anatomy was virtually identical. The Omega took off his shirt and took in deep breaths when asked. He coughed with only a small amount of pain, and ultimately was given a few anti-inflammatories and told to be more cautious in the future.

By the time Stiles unlocked the door to his small, one-bedroom apartment, he was ready to collapse. The building was one of the newer ones in town, and it was nice and well-insulated. He didn’t mind the lack of space in the unit, because he had a designated parking spot. It was one of the ways the landlord had avoided charging less rent on the four, corner-apartments. He kicked off his shoes, tossed the mail on his armchair, and hung up his coat before going to the refrigerator and taking out a cold beer. He plugged in his phone in the bedroom as he sipped at the cold brew, hoping to take the edge off his anxiety before he passed out from exhaustion.

Stiles had a routine that he stuck to, and like the Weres, he tended to feel more grounded when he stuck to it. He picked up the remote and sat on his leather loveseat. It was gray and much nicer than he could afford, but it was sold on clearance because that color had been discontinued and there were no other pieces to match it. He turned on the television with the remote and leaned forward to pick up the mail from the chair, which was the only other piece of furniture in the living room. He looked at his cream-colored walls, bare except for the framed photo of him and his dad from his college graduation. It looked odd because it was fairly small and just made the starkness of the rest of the room more apparent.

Stiles pawed through his bills and opened up an envelope from the local lab; it was the results from his most recent screening. Four times a year, he got an injection that was a combined birth control and heat-suppressant. He got tested midway between shots to make sure he wasn’t developing a tolerance to it. He’d switched to this drug three years ago when the last one had started being ineffective for the level he needed to maintain at work. Most Omegas didn’t require that kind of vigilance, but his specialized job meant he worked with creatures who were more volatile and vulnerable to his hormones. He was also vulnerable to theirs. It wasn't that an Alpha Were could make a human Omega want to mate with them, but it could push an otherwise heat-stable Omega into an early estrus. Omega humans could usually remain indistinguishable from Betas under this drug regimen and Stiles had been on it since he’d presented in his early teens. At work, the only ones who knew he was an Omega were Deaton, Lydia and Scott. Technically the Weres knew, because their noses were several hundred times more sensitive than a human’s, but they couldn’t talk.

According to the lab results, Stiles was still well within desired limits, and his secret was safe as well. He set down the beer and eventually found himself drifting off while watching a cooking show. He dragged himself to his feet and finished the beer, more to avoid wasting it than because he enjoyed it. He brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas and crawled into bed. Sleep eluded him for a while, and he thought about Peter treating him like a pup. No-that wasn’t right. Peter had treated him like Pack. He smiled to himself; he liked that the Alpha saw him as a fellow Were. It meant they were family, and that Peter cared for him enough to protect him. Household Weres developed attachments to their owners like that. It was sweet, he told himself.

~

The following week was busy in the stable, but not without its amusements. Alpha Weres tended to behave in certain ways towards Omegas, especially when they were in heat. They tended to bring them food, tried to engage them in play, or groom them to get their attention. In wild packs, the Omegas were the heart of the group, and their company was coveted. Liam was no exception to this, but he got confused by his instincts, since he was newly presented and in captivity. Scott gave Liam a nice rare steak to eat; he’d been sneaking treats to help the under-sized young Were grow strong. He moved on after giving Liam a good rub on the ears and Isaac who’d been exchanging scents with a female named Malia, trotted after him. Stiles and Theo had just entered the stables when it happened, or no one would have believed Scott.

Isaac was ambling past Liam’s stall when the steak went flying through the air and struck the Omega on the side of the head. He’d yelped in surprise and fallen, pulling himself up on the door to Liam’s stall when the Alpha reached through the bars and petted the curly hair. He looked quite pleased with himself and took the roar of laughter that came from the three humans as approval. Isaac hissed and snapped at the Alpha who backed away in confusion.

“Dude,” Scott managed to say, coming up and comforting Isaac while wiping the meaty blood trail on his face, “that’s not how you offer food, or play, or groom an Omega.” He shook his head, sadly. “You need to spend some time with Duke and learn some moves.”

Stiles had nearly collapsed from laughing too hard and Theo had had to drag him past with one arm draped over his shoulder, while choking a bit on his own mirth. Lydia had managed to keep a straight face as Isaac had practically crawled into her lap, shoving his bloody hair at her. The laughter had erupted again as Isaac had whimpered to Lydia and then turned away and gloated, looking around the room smugly because he’d ‘conned’ Lydia into another hair-grooming session. Stiles relaxed a bit after that around Theo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add a tag for the previous chapter's object insertion. Fixed.


	5. Brown chicken, brown cow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mating season is in full swing. Were Control comes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really tired and it was really late when I posted this. I re-read it this morning and was horrified at how my sleep-deprived brain works.

Friday morning started with Ennis's knot-block; it was a result of too many days being sedated while he healed. Deaton had been worried about it happening and had to strap the big animal down to manually release it. To Stiles’s surprise, Theo followed Deaton into the breeding room in a scent-neutralizing suit.

“Mr. Raeken’s previous employment was at a breeding farm. He’s just here to observe and only step in if we need an extra hand.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “He’s already evacuated his bowels,” Scott said, “so, we don’t have to manually do it.”

Ennis wasn’t sedated. The drugs had been part of the problem, so Deaton had brought him into the small room designed for breeding Weres instead. The walls were made entirely out of Mountain Ash, and it worked to dampen the Were’s abilities. They had him shackled to a wooden cross that was similar to a St. Andrew’s cross-something Stiles would not admit to knowing- and he was facing away from them.

Ennis was nervous despite Scott and Deaton patting down his flanks and using synthetic Omega hormone to try and calm him. Scott lubed up a gloved finger and gently pressed into Ennis’s anus. The snarl grew louder as the finger went deeper and then stuttered like a dying engine when the hot button was pressed. He whined a few times, squirming in his bonds before the human Alpha added a second finger and started to move his hand with shallow, rapid motions. Ennis snapped and snarled, writhing in his bonds as his sensitive prostate was worked. 

Deaton held a jar ready and pressed his perineum. Suddenly Ennis let out a howl as he came like a fountain. He was panting and pushing back against the fingers even while still snarling and snapping weakly. They managed to get a week’s worth of essence out of him before they were finished. He hung limply from his bonds as they got their gear packed up. Stiles was walking out with the capped jar and saw Theo staring at the beast with an odd expression on his face. Stiles glanced back at the vulnerable Were whose legs were still spread with a shiny smear of lube on his ass cheeks.

“What?” Stiles asked. Theo looked surprised and then embarrassed.

“Nothing, I just-” he looked furtively at Deaton who was cleaning the animal. “I think this is a St. Andrew’s cross.”

Stiles covered his mouth with his hand and pulled Theo along with him. He was starting to like the guy.

“I’ll show you where we get the essence ready,” he said. Once they were alone, he added, “I thought it was a St. Andrew's cross too, by the way.” They cleaned up and he showed Theo the process, during which the younger man took notes.

Since it was Friday, no one was surprised when there was a visitor at the fence. Everyone except Lydia found something else to do when the WCO, Jordan Parrish, buzzed the office.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile when he came into the office. Her knee-length skirt and low-heeled ankle boots made her look feminine and vulnerable. Her hair was braided and pinned up along the sides of her head. She had a clipboard in one hand and her makeup carefully and lightly applied to give her a dewy glow and a natural look. “This is a nice surprise.” She was too smart to bat her eyes at him and be the overt flirt. She just gave him the impression she’s genuinely pleased to see him. She won’t mention it to the boys, but its the truth.

“Good morning, Ms. Martin.” Jordan looked a little shy but handsome with his green eyes, and square jaw.

“Call me Lydia,” she ordered, giving him a _look._ “You’ll make me feel old.”

“Okay, Lydia. You can call me Jordan.”

“What brings you here today, Jordan?”

“I’ve got about a dozen reports for a missing Omega or a stolen Omega.” He leaned against the wall. “I came to check out your strays.” He followed her to the stray room.

“Only two strays this month,” she said. “Both female.” She checked the clipboard outside the room as if she didn’t know every Were in the building. “Both Betas.”

“I got the paperwork on a Beta that came in on the twelfth,” Parrish said, starting to look stiff, and a little less friendly.

“The twelfth? Oh, you mean Isaac.” Lydia blinked in surprise. “He came in on the twelfth, and we changed his status when he presented, but he wasn’t a stray.” She narrowed her eyes. “When did all the reports of a missing Omega come in?” She gave him a conspiratorial look. He smiled.

“Within an hour of me uploading the status change in the system.” He kept his face neutral, but she could see a tightening of his lips. He clearly didn’t like it when people broke rules to steal Omegas. “Honestly, I think if you didn’t have the gate locked, you’d have people trying to break in.”

“When they find out Isaac’s wild, and that Deaton’s not selling him, I expect we’ll have plenty of that.” She jerked her head at the stable door. “I’ll show you Isaac.”

“I’m curious to see what all the fuss is about.”

There were plenty of reasons the old barn was off-limits to most of the staff and all volunteers, as well as members of the public. Keeping the number of people who handled the Weres down to a select few meant the animals were calmer and easier to handle. Safety of the Weres and humans was another. A third was the effect that Alpha pheromones had on humans. The effects were small in lower exposures, but with five virile Alphas whose essence kept the Shelter running, and no other Betas or Omegas living in the same room, the musk could be overwhelming. Each of the employees had needed time to build up a tolerance to the pheromones with short-term exposures that got longer and longer. To walk into the barn during mating season with an Omega in heat was just plain diabolical. So, Lydia took Jordan through the stable first.

They tended to keep the Betas grouped in same sex pairs or trios for company. The exceptions were the ones who’d been given shots to prevent implantation. It prevented pregnancy bit it didn’t stop them from having urges during mating season. Jordan managed to keep a straight face when Lydia paused next to a stall to ask Rhonda, a volunteer who was grooming an adorable set of pups, if she’d seen Isaac. Jordan paused a few feet behind her and glanced into the pen next to the pups’. His eyebrows went up but he made no comment.

Malia and Kira, a pair of strong females were the residents, and Malia currently had her face buried between Kira’s legs. Lydia kept talking while Jordan listened to the noises coming from the pair. He was a WCO so he knew that same-sex pairings were about as common in Were packs as with humans. However, he rarely saw so many of them together and was relieved to keep going when Lydia continued down the row. When she paused again beside a stall that was labeled with the residents' names and a Polaroid of each: Francis and Solomon, she turned to face him.

"When we go into the barn, we'll have to put on scent neutralizing suits," she said. "I know you've been in there once or twice before, but during mating season the guys are a little more volatile. We want to reduce the factors that might influence their behavior, and the scent of an unfamiliar male-" she paused. "An unfamiliar male might make them more competitive or aggressive." As she spoke, in his peripheral vision, he noticed the two Beta males. They failed to notice him, however, as they were too wrapped up in each other. Specifically, their legs were wrapped around each other's heads. He nodded to Lydia and she moved on. 

“Duck,” Lydia said as they passed Liam’s stall, and Jordan impressed her by managing to catch the bloody steak that hurtled at his head. The confused, but hopeful Alpha bounded over to the door and stuck his head out. He knew the trick got _some_ kind of reaction, and he was determined to keep trying until he figured out the right way to do it. Jordan gave the steak back to the Were and rubbed his ear. Lydia was secretly pleased that he didn’t rattle easily, but was nevertheless glad that Ennis was back in his stall. 

The pair paused in the office and Jordan removed his uniform jacket and shirt to put on a neutral suit over his pants and t-shirt. Were Control Officers were licensed to carry, but he wasn’t armed. Lydia put on her suit and swiped her card on the door to the barn before walking in. She let Jordan go past her and made sure the door was closed. She felt his hand on her shoulder and she paused. He looked flushed and a little dazed as he blinked a few times.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, removing his hand from her shoulder. "I've been to a few commercial farms where the Alphas are packed in like sardines, but it's not usually like this.

"Synthetic Omega pheromones keep them from flooding the big commercial barns. Here, there's nothing to stop them from trying to 'out-Alpha' the other Alphas in here." She gave him and understanding look. “I’m used to it now, but it was pretty rough my first few weeks here.” She turned away, _almost_ concealing an embarrassed smile. She led the way down the row and started at the milking stall. Peter was there with Stiles who gave a quick wave as Peter whined while he was being fondled. “Isaac?”

"They're trying the new collection method," Stiles said, jacking the muscular Were's thick cock.

Lydia came to Derek’s stall and saw him turned away in a huff; he always did get jealous. She crossed to Boyd who approached the bars shyly.

“As I live and breathe,” Jordan said. “He looks amazing, he's put on some muscle. Aren’t you just gorgeous, Boyd?” He smiled at the big Were with genuine pleasure. Boyd sniffed and when Jordan held up his hand, he carefully reached out with his palm down, and put the back of his hand under Jordan’s. The WCO rubbed his hand and then his forearm, squeezing up his arm vigorously with both hands and reaching up beside his shoulder to scratch at his neck. He was careful to avoid the bars.

“I forgot,” Lydia said. “You were the one who rescued him.” She tilted her head. "He doesn't trust...most men."

“Yeah, he was in rough shape when we found him. I thought for sure we’d lose him, but he’s got heart.” He shook his head. “I wish I brought some limes with me.” He saw Lydia’s bright smile. “He responded better to my old partner, Erica.” He nodded to Boyd. “She got hurt and had to go on disability. Seizures from a head injury. We were in a car accident.” He shook his head. “She’d be over here to see him in a second if she could.” His comment made Lydia start thinking, but she hid it as they moved along. Ennis was lazing on his bench looking _very_ relaxed as he watched Duke and Isaac.

Scott was suited up and had added a mask and gloves to avoid any scent that might make Duke touchy. He was in the stall with Isaac who was backed up to the bars. They had a routine now, and Duke was playing at ‘Alpha Masseur’ to a blissed-out Omega. Jordan looked surprised that neither Were was restrained.

“You don’t use a bench for him?”

“No need. Duke’s been doing this for more than twenty-years. He probably knows more about Omegas than any of us.” She gave Jordan a smile that was wasted on the officer. With naked fascination, he watched the interplay between the two creatures. After more than a week, there was familiarity and affection mixed in with their instincts. Isaac playfully nipped at one of Duke’s fingers when he rubbed the Omega’s shoulders and the Alpha swatted at an ear in response. Playtime ended, and Duke got smoothly to business. He ran a broad hand up Isaac’s spine and gripped the back of his neck.

“You don’t just let them in a stall together if you trust them?” Jordan asked, using a soft tone.

“Separating them would be more traumatic if they had a chance to get close enough to form a permanent bond.” 

As the pressure on his scruff increased, Isaac’s body relaxed, and his gaze lost focus. His neck and face flushed, and he lifted himself on trembling legs, presenting to the older Were. He no longer looked nervous, uncertain, or surprised at his own actions. He was purring and content as Duke gently parted his cheeks and started rubbing with his thumbs before bringing his mouth down to start licking.

“But his junk’s in a cage,” Jordan said, pointing at the chastity device. “Does he forget that he can’t do anything?”

“Could you?” Lydia snorted. “Duke is one of the smartest Weres we’ve encountered. He and Isaac have built trust over multiple encounters. He does this without trying to breed.”

“Why?” Jordan looked at Lydia, genuinely curious, but with an edge to the question. She almost got the impression he was quizzing her.

“It might be a matter of hoping Isaac will show preference when it’s time to breed, or because a pleased Omega gives off pheromones that other Weres crave.” When Jordan didn’t respond, something unspoken passed between them and she relaxed. “Or because Duke just enjoys taking care of a creature he sees as a packmate.” Jordan nodded and she continued. “He treats Isaac like he’s important, makes him feel valued. In return, Isaac shows affection and caring for the Alpha.” Lydia doubted Jordan was aware that he’d gravitated closer to her. “The lack of breeding doesn’t render the…interactions meaningless for him.”

The WCO looked like he was so moved, emotionally that he’d forgotten Scott was there. He started when the young vet student moved forward. He had a wand in his hand with what looked like a clear plastic bag covering it.

“What is that?” Jordan asked, quietly.

“We’ve collected from Duke already, so we’re not wasting much if this doesn’t work, but we wanted to try another method.” Lydia didn’t mention to Jordan that this method was unlikely to work on any other Alpha; but because he'd been trained for breeding and was more easily controlled, they could try it on the old Were. Scott moved in quickly when it was time.

“Duke, hold!” he barked out the order quickly and the surprised Alpha stood up and stepped back, shifting his blind eyes around. Isaac gave a confused whine, but Scott gripped one of the Omega’s lean hips tightly, imitating the hold a mounting Alpha would use and Isaac turned and presented. Scott pressed the wand against his shiny, puffy hole and slipped it in. The Omega jerked but then the wand was removed, leaving only the open end of the plastic bag that was anchored outside his body with a hard ring. The vet student turned his attention back to the Alpha Were. “Here, Duke.” He clucked his tongue to guide the Alpha to him and the Were in his direction. He already had the key to the chastity device ready, and reached through the bars and unlocked it. He stepped back and let the device loosen on its own. Duke gingerly pushed it off and let it fall to the floor.

Confused, Isaac turned in a circle on his knees, looking at Duke. The Alpha reached a hand through the bars and stroked the Omega’s face. Now free of the metal cage, his cock filled quickly as Isaac sniffed at it and gave it a few licks. Scott backed away, not wanting to confuse the Weres any further, and moved to stand near Jordan and Lydia to watch.

Duke crooned to Isaac who was licking and mouthing at his cock like it was a new toy. After steering the organ gently between the Omega’s lips, Duke made a few pushes with his hips and let out a relieved groan as Isaac gave a few experimental sucks. Isaac’s flush got deeper, and he turned, presenting to the Alpha. He let out a more insistent whine this time. _Now’s our chance!_ And Duke needed no more encouragement.

Feeling good about the return of his genital autonomy, Duke dropped to his knees gripped Isaac’s hips. He steered the Omega backwards and his hard cock poked through the bars. He teased Isaac a little with the tip, and Lydia and Scott shared a smile. It was hard to resist teasing a little shit like Isaac. Jordan sucked in a breath and held it as the Alpha smiled indulgently at the Omega’s impatient whines.

With a slight shift in posture, Duke steadied himself and pushed the head of his cock inside Isaac. The Omega let out a delighted squeak. _Banana time!_ His noises broke off when Duke pulled him back by the hips until they were both against the bars. Isaac looked surprised at how deeply and fully he was being filled and made a questioning chirp. Duke rumbled and rubbed his back soothingly until the Omega relaxed and dropped down to his elbows.

“Good boy,” Scott said, sounding a little emotional.

Duke did what he was trained for and started thrusting. He picked up speed until his hips were practically a blur. Isaac was shaking and squirming as he was unsure what to do with the increase in ‘banana’ size. The Alpha’s soothing rumble only worked for so long until Isaac was up on his hands and rocking back and forth, trying to seek out his orgasm, but not knowing how. Duke moved his grip to Isaac’s thighs and stood up, pulling the Omega’s legs through the bars and forcing him to remain at a downward angle. The Omega twisted his torso and yelped angrily. _What’s with the banana? I’m usually finished by now._ Duke snapped his jaws with a short bark. _Quit moving!_ Then he started yanking Isaac back onto him and apparently nailing the Omega’s prostate because Isaac started to keen loudly.

“Wheelbarrow,” Jordan said, nodding in approval. “Good call.” He and Scott shared a knowing look and Lydia rolled her eyes.

Duke gave a spectacularly dexterous roll to his hips and firmly knotted the Omega. Isaac spurted come on the floor and howled. The Alpha gently lowered them both and carefully folded Isaac’s legs back through the bars. He pushed his own hips into the bars, taking most of the discomfort in order to bring Isaac’s back up against the bars, gently walking his hands up the Omega's chest until he was upright where Duke could stroke and caress him. Isaac was completely limp and let Duke nuzzle and pet him as he floated in bliss.

The tie lasted almost twenty minutes, but to everyone’s surprise, when Isaac started to get restless after fifteen, Duke pinched his nipple and reached down to jerk the Omega’s cock. He made minute thrusts with his hips and Isaac reached back to grip the bars in surprise as the Alpha stimulated his prostate with his knot and fondled the little Omega balls while twisting his wrist and rubbing a thumb over his slit until he came again, and relaxed.

“Oh my God!” Lydia exclaimed. “That’s-he learned that-” She stopped talking but her lips were pursed in amused indignation.

When Duke’s knot finally deflated enough for Isaac to slip off, the Omega turned around to press his forehead to Duke’s through the bars. Scott stepped forward and gently removed the plastic collection bag. He waited until the two Weres had a chance to nuzzle and lick at each other before gently urging Isaac back onto his leash. He took Isaac back to nap in his room and locked it. The Omega was too valuable to leave in a stall.

Stiles joined Scott, Lydia and Jordan. Scott and the WCO had taken off their suits and Jordan was back in his uniform shirt. They sat in Deaton’s office with the stack of lost/stolen Omega claims.

“Do you think any of them are real?” Scott asked, pouring a cup of coffee from the old machine for the officer.

“Not impossible, because if a farm loses and an Omega, they won’t always report it because other farms will go looking. They'll want it to sell, or for themselves.” He flipped through the stack. “I think I have six different reports, with six different descriptions from Curran’s farm in Carson City,” he wrinkled his nose. “That place is a dump; they don’t have the money to feed their Weres properly or come close to what’s called humane care.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Nevada doesn’t shut them down.”

“What about the rest.”

“There’s a private owner who gives a description that’s closest.” Jordan frowned. “That’s the only one I haven’t heard of.” He held out the sheet. “I looked up the farm, but the website’s only a week old and there’s generic photos but nothing of the location and there’s no farm at the mailing address.”

“Head hunter?” Scott suggested. Groups who worked in acquisitions for bigger companies were harder to track because they didn’t usually have a facility to inspect. They just did capture and transport and then dissolved the company after the individual contract was finished.

“Possibly,” Lydia added.

“Isaac’s tall for an Omega, even though he's young,” Jordan said. “You probably know this, but some farms will buy the smaller male Betas hoping that they'll present as Omegas. The smaller ones are cheap because they're past the puppy stage, but not as strong as the ones used for labor." He shook his head. "If they don't turn out to be Omegas, they'll castrate them and use them as relief for the labor Betas, or to train breeding Alphas so they won't harm a valuable bitch." He slapped down three more forms. "These claim they bought Isaac as a Beta and he presented later, but no commercial farm would have bought a Beta his size. He's too skinny to be a laborer, and too tall to look like an Omega candidate. My official report is confirming your claim.” He smiled when he saw the relief on Lydia's face.

“I’ll walk you out,” she said. “It’s almost time for my lunch break, anyway.”

As Lydia approached Parrish’s SUV, she gently clasped his elbow. He slowed his step when they reached the door and he looked down at her.

“I’ve never seen someone who treats them like they have minds, before.” He put his hand on the door of his SUV. “I’ve studied them for a long time, but most people still see monsters. Here at the farm, you see them. You really _see_ them for the intelligent creatures they are.”

“I just wish others did too.” Lydia reached up and pressed her soft palm to Parrish’s face. “Keep us posted, if you can.” She reached into her skirt pocket and took out a card. “And, give me a call if you want to go out sometime.” She wasn’t coy or flirty, just earnest and friendly.

~

Late on Monday morning, Lydia, Scott and Stiles sat around Deaton’s kitchen for lunch with the television on. The weather was miserable; it was pissing rain and clammy. The Weres’ exercise had been cut back because the school year had started back up and there were fewer volunteers available to supervise. The stabled Weres were cranky and the Alphas were worse. After Ennis had snapped at Deaton, the vet had suggested they lock up the place, and take a real break for lunch.

These moments were rare; they always had too much work to all stop at the same time. But Deaton uncharacteristically laughed and said that sometimes you had to recognize it as a bad day and regroup. He called it a ‘Tactical retreat’ lunch. He made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, hot chocolate, and opened a bag of corn chips. The group stuffed themselves on carbs, fats, salt, sugar, and topped it with warm soup belly. They sprawled half on top of each other, and groused about mortgages, (Lydia & Deaton) classes, (Scott) Men, (Lydia & Stiles) Women, (Scott & Stiles) Federal regulations on the schedule of reimbursement for state subsidized shelters that accepted the Weres that were displaced by development, (Deaton & Stiles) and the old barn Alphas.(Everyone)

Allison Argent's face popped up on the news channel, surprising the group and they turned on the volume too late to hear what the upcoming story was about before it went to commercial. The young woman was the face of her family's company, Argent Arms. The company had evolved from being gun dealers and running big game hunts to the safe capture, transportation and release of wild Weres. Chris was the CEO, but she’d become famous when TLC had done a few seasons of shows following a few of her family members on larger Were capture jobs. Her sweet smile and dimpled cheeks along with deadly aim had managed to land her a few late night talk show appearances when the show got popular.

After the death of Allison's mother who'd been the former CEO, her father had taken the position but let Allison be the official representative. She and Scott had dated for years, but things had fizzled after Victoria Argent had passed and she'd started traveling more for work. Scott made everyone shush when the local news came back from commercial. The reporter sat at the news desk and introduced the story, citing a previously recorded interview that gave insight to a Were’s behavior. A local wild Were had gained internet popularity after she’d been reported to authorities because she’d been spotted close to an elementary school. The failed efforts of the local police to capture the Were had been filmed and put on the internet, which went viral. The reporter had asked a local expert, Allison Argent, about the behavior of the Were and whether or not the children were in danger.

“I think her presence here is directed by something more than just the loss of habitat,” Allison said. “Seeing a single wild Were in the wilderness usually just means you just haven’t found the others yet. If you see a wild Were in an urban area, it’s sometimes sick, or lost, but we’ve been watching a lone Were who's actually staying in one place despite the danger.”

“What would make her do that?” asked the reporter.

“She’s looking for something. Possibly her mate, but I think she was drawn here by the children.” Allison gave a careful pause. “She may have lost her own cub, and she’s instinctively searching where other children are.” The phone rang and Deaton answered it in the other room as Allison continued speaking. “Once she’s in custody, we should be able to rule out any illness. And if she hasn’t had contact with the children, there’s no need for vaccinations. Besides, Were's can't carry diseases the way most animals can.” Deaton returned to the kitchen.

“Well, it looks like we’ll be seeing our local celebrity,” he said.

“Allison?” Scott stood up, quickly.

“I mean the wild Were,” Deaton replied. “She’s been captured, and she’ll be brought here.”

“Did Allison catch her?” Scott asked, with a hopeful look.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll get quarantine set up,” Lydia said. She put her raincoat back on and slipped on her boots. “I should get back to the stable after that and start getting everyone their dinners.” Scott and Stiles put on their coats too, Deaton started picking up the kitchen and told the others he’d meet them when the Were arrived.

Stiles went down to the gate and waited in the rain. A truck with the Argent Logo arrived pulling a trailer behind it. He unlocked the gate and lifted his umbrella to greet the driver. Cool, blue eyes stared back at him and Chris Argent gave him a nod; beside him, Allison leaned forward.

“Hi Stiles.” She scooted close to her father and gestured beside her. “Jump in, we’ll give you a ride up.” Chris pulled the truck through, Stiles closed the gate, and then climbed into the cab beside Allison. “How’ve you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you since last Christmas.”

“I haven’t seen you since ten minutes ago on the news.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “So, you brought down the Were?” he asked.

“No, I was just backup,” she answered. “Dad’s a better tracker, and we don’t use bows in this weather if we can avoid it.”

“She seem healthy?” he asked. He couldn’t see into the trailer from the truck.

“She's unusually strong and crafty. She might be an Alpha,” Chris said, speaking for the first time. He kept his eyes on the driveway and parked under the covered entrance to the stable. “I’ll get her out,” he said. “You go inside Sweetheart.” Allison went inside where Scott was waiting, and Stiles moved around to the back of the trailer. Chris didn’t say anything as he unlocked the door and brought down the ramp of the modified horse trailer. The Were was lying on the floor, not moving. “She’s secured to the wall,” he said, and walked in. Stiles followed him but stopped when he felt the man’s hand on his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s awake,” Chris said. “She’s only pretending.”

“How do you know?”

“Experience.”

“She’s that clever?”

“Took me all night to catch her.” Chris took a catch pole off the wall and went to the still form. He slipped it over her head and pulled it tight in a quick movement, and the Were flipped over and came up, snarling and shifted.

“Wow, she’s like a fox,” Stiles said with a chuckle, stepping back so Chris could bring her into the building. He held the door and Chris brought her down the hall to quarantine. Once the Were was safely contained, Chris and Stiles went back to the office where Scott and Allison were filling out paperwork…and staring at each other.

“She’s in,” Chris said, brusquely. “Let’s go, Allison.” He didn’t say anything to the others before walking out.

“Man of few words,” Scott said, looking a little uncomfortable.

“He’s not usually so anti-social,” she said. When the two men looked at her, she shrugged. “Okay, maybe not Mr. Personality, but he’s usually polite.”

“Was it the news thing?” Lydia asked, walking into the room. “He seems like the shy type who doesn’t like publicity.”

“Yeah, he hates being on camera.”

“I’m sorry to only see you for a few minutes,” Scott said. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m in town for the next few weeks,” Allison said. “You should come by the range, it’s a great way to blow off steam.” She looked worried for a moment. “I know that a vet student and people who work in shelters aren’t necessarily into guns…”

“I’m a cop’s kid,” Stiles said with a shrug.

“I’m an FBI agent’s kid,” Scott said with another shrug.

“I’m a single woman living alone,” Lydia said. “I’m in.”

Allison gave them all VIP cards that would give them a free lesson.

“Do you keep these cards with you all the time?” Scott asked.

“No, I thought I might run into you, and I wanted to be ready.” Allison looked hopeful. “I’ve missed you guys. I know I'm to blame because I'm terrible at keeping in touch, but I do miss you.”

“Us too,” Lydia said, crossing the office and giving Allison a hug. “Why don’t we figure out a good night to get together for dinner after the weekend?”

“That would be great.”

When the Argents left, Scott was floating around, buoyed by hope, Lydia seemed more subdued and thoughtful when she finished feeding the Weres in the stable, and Stiles was pacing around, irritable and moody. He brought Peter into the milking room and wanked him with a rougher hand than usual.

“Dude, ease up, he looks scared.”

Stiles looked up from the cock he was holding. Scott stood in the doorway of the milking parlor and jerked his chin at Peter. “You okay, Big guy?” As if replying, Peter made a quiet whimper. _Help me._

“Oh, sorry Petey.”

The Alpha had his back flattened against the wall and was trembling silently. “It’s not you, it’s me, I swear.” Stiles sighed and loosened his grip. He gave the flagging erection an apologetic pat. “Um, lemme just…” He stood up and leaned in, letting Peter close to his neck.

“Not fair,” Scott said. “I have to hide my scent, and you’ve just got Viagra in your veins.”

“Yeah, Omega pheromones are the best. I mean, it weren’t for the blatant misogyny I get from other _guys_ , it would be great.” He leaned against the wall and put his armpit awkwardly close to the Were who pushed his face into it. “Seriously, it’s like I’m seventeen again and sneaking into gay bars; amateur hour over here with the hand jobs.” Scott snorted and left them alone. “Seriously though,” Stiles said, letting Peter stay in his pit while he gently fondled his balls, “I do stuff like this, I devote my life to jerking off giant dicks and keeping you sexually primed.” He felt the Were getting hard again and heard the beast start to purr. He absently rubbed the wavy hair. “You’d think I could manage to find a little romance for myself.” He shook his head and placed the glass jar down on the floor. “Allison and Scott are going to put us all though drama again because they can’t stay away from each other, but it’s never gonna **work**!”

“I heard that!” Scott shouted. Stiles shook his head and put a twist in his grip, making Peter rumble and lean into him.

“So much drama, and I can’t get a guy to call me back, or even be there when I wake up.” He sighed and aimed Peter’s cock into the jar. The Were groaned and his hips jerked as he filled the jar. “At least someone’s satisfied.” He brought Peter back to his stall and rubbed his limbs, affectionately. The Were walked out from under his touch, climbed up on his bench and turned his back. “I thought we were good, Peter.” He closed the Were in and went to find Lydia, who was just going in to see Isaac. Stiles gave the curly-haired Were a head rub, but to their collective surprise, he pawed impatiently at Lydia, whimpering and seemingly doing his best to motorboat the redhead’s breasts.

“Dude, I see the appeal, but ease up.” Stiles wrestled the Were off Lydia, but Isaac stole the scarf she had around her neck.

“Maybe it’s because I hugged a stranger.” She looked at Isaac carefully and didn't try to reclaim the scarf.

“Could be,” Stiles replied and took over grooming Isaac. He whined when Lydia left. “You just took your first knot recently, you don't need to learn about girls yet. But... maybe you need more companionship.” Claudia Stilinski had always told a young Stiles that when he was having a bad day, he should make the effort to brighten someone else's. He decided to stop feeling sorry for himself.

Theo ended up helping with a lot more work than usual due to the shortage of volunteers and the extra time Scott and Deaton had to spend with the wild Were. He didn’t complain and offered to help clean the floors. Stiles declined, telling him he’d done enough and let the younger man go home early. He spent an extra few minutes in the old barn before he went home. He tossed in a new blanket for each Alpha and gave Isaac a teddy bear. 

Deaton sent him home at eleven-thirty, telling him that he was done for the night and to enjoy his day off.

~

Stiles was feeling an itching under his skin. He woke with a restlessness that all Omegas learned to cope with. Suppressors could prevent ovulation, and implantation. They could lower an Omega’s releasable hormones to a controllable level, but with the right provocation, or stimulation, they could still have breakthrough heat symptoms. Anxiety made it worse, and Stiles was very keyed up. He thought about the VIP pass Allison had given him and picked up his keys.

The shooting range was out in the middle of nowhere, unsurprising since he doubted that anyone wanted a shooting range particularly close to their home. There were a few trucks in the parking lot, but it wasn’t crowded. He was going in the late morning on a Tuesday, so it probably appealed to the retirement crowd. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and tugged at his collar. He wasn’t sure what someone was supposed to wear to the range, but he hoped jeans and a t-shirt worked.

“Good morning.” The receptionist behind the desk didn’t bother to look up from the computer she sat behind when she greeted him. “Welcome to Argent Arms, please sign in.” Her name tag read ‘Danielle’, but her expression read ‘Fuck Off’.

“Good morning,” Stiles replied, not bothering to try and get her to talk. He held out his VIP card but Danielle pointed to an electronic screen attached to the desk. He was impressed with the place's security. He scanned the card and typed in his name, registering himself as a new member. It opened a window where his own, startled face showed up. He carefully posed and tried to look like someone who should be trusted with a firearm as it took his photo. When prompted, he made the selection for ‘Private lesson, and selected Allison’s name when it listed the available instructors.

After fifteen minutes, a door opened, and a roar of gunfire poured out along with Chris Argent. He ignored Stiles and went to talk quietly to Danielle while Stiles pretended to play with his phone. Eventually, Argent came over with a clipboard and greeted the young man.

“Mr. Stilinski, good to see you again.”

“Call me Stiles,” he said, clasping Chris’s outstretched hand.

“Then call me Chris and follow me. We’ll use a private range.” He was giving his best ‘Customer Appreciation’ smile, as he handed Stiles his new membership card with his photo on it, and it was working for Stiles. The white teeth, tanned skin, and the striking eyes made for an appealing combination. He felt a throb in his abdomen, and saw Argent’s nostrils flare, but the man said nothing. Stiles really hoped being around Allison would calm him down. He followed Chris through the doors that held back all the noise, and he felt like he was walking into a movie theater. At first it seemed pitch black, but after the doors closed behind them, he could see some light up ahead.

To the Omega's surprise, he didn't see Allison anywhere as Chris opened the door to a private range with two targets and several, unloaded handguns on the barrier. Chris closed the door, walked towards the guns and turned to face Stiles in front of the barrier. “I set this up when you arrived,” he said, gesturing for Stiles to step over to the table. “Take your pick and show me what the sheriff’s son can do.”

“I thought…” he paused, not wanting to insult the older Argent.

“Allison just left to run an errand. I’m filling in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. I mean, it's just-she gave me the ticket, so I thought I was supposed to see her.” He stood awkwardly for a moment and then pushed past Argent, bumping his shoulder as he walked to the table at the barrier. “This is fine, though. Sure.” He cleared his throat and picked up a nine millimeter.

“Did the Sheriff train you?”

“There aren’t too many other people out there who’ll actually let me near guns,” he replied. “You should keep your expectations low. I know I plan to.” He heard a low chuckle behind him and shoved the earmuffs on. With the silence that fell over with the ear covers came a kind of calm as he put the clip in the pistol and thumbed off the safety. Behind him he could feel the warmth of Chris’s body. He squared himself and raised the gun. His hands shook, slightly when he felt Chris’s hands on his hips, adjusting his balance and tweaking his shoulders, making the right one straighter. Stiles wanted to shrug him off, the man was only making his discomfort worse. He aimed at the target and squeezed off a round. He paused, checked his aim, breathed out and felt Argent’s hands come to rest on his shoulders. He squeezed off another few rounds which went wide.

Impatiently, Stiles reached back and knocked the older man’s hands away. He turned back to the target and emptied the clip. It wouldn’t win him any awards, but it was an improvement. He made the gun secure, popped out the clip and accepted the one Argent handed him over his shoulder. He snapped it in, thumbed off the safety, aimed and put the entire clip in the target's chest. Not in the perfect center, but all close. He hadn’t noticed Argent’s hands landing back on his shoulders, but as he engaged the safety and pulled his earmuffs off, he felt Chris’s hand tighten on the back of his neck. He’d just gotten himself close to being under control again, and Chris was turning him around, holding his own earmuffs in his hand.

“What are you doing, coming here like this?” he growled, tightening his grip on Stiles neck. So much for Mr. customer service.

“I was planning to hang out with your daughter, Chris.” He kept his tone dry, but he couldn’t help breathing in the Alpha’s scent, which just made his belly cramp again. “You could’ve told me to go home if she wasn't here.” He looked the Alpha in the eye and the older man flinched. “You didn’t though, did you?” He was starting to get dizzy; attraction didn’t make him helpless, neither did anxiety, and he could still get out of there and go home. But Stiles could never back down.

“It was stupid to come here,” Chris said grabbing his upper arm. Stiles slapped his hand away and found his wrist twisted up behind his back and the hunter’s hand clamped tightly on the back of his neck as he pushed him against the wall. The soundproofing made it feel like his face was being pushed into a carpet. That wasn't helpful.

“I wanted to talk to Allison,” he said, carefully.

“About what?” Chris's voice was sharp.

“Why the Omega you brought in tried to crawl inside Lydia’s dress when he saw her after she hugged Allison.” Stiles hadn't realized Isaac's behavior had been in his subconscious before he blurted it out. Chris had that effect on him.

“Maybe he’s got good taste,” Chris said, his voice lowering to a growl with a hint of threat. "I can't say I haven't thought about it myself."

“What does it say about you?” Stiles asked, as his anger pricked up in defense of his friend, “going after your daughter’s friends?” His question got his neck squeezed even tighter, drawing out a growl of his own. If they weren't pretending to be polite, he didn't need to hold back either. “If you want me to come in my pants Argent, by all means, keep squeezing.” He pushed his ass backwards and bumped against the other man’s hips. The hard ridge of the Alpha's very obvious erection fit nicely against Stiles and he rubbed back against him. The hunter was taking advantage of his instincts, so Stiles dished it right back.

Chris dropped the Omega’s wrist and dragged him out of the room. They were near the end of the hall which was blessedly empty, and Chris took him out the side exit and practically threw him into the passenger seat of his SUV. Stiles was barely able to keep his hands from shaking long enough to buckle his seat belt before the older man peeled out of the parking lot. “I should drive you right to your dad’s,” he snarled, swinging onto the road and driving deeper into the woods, instead of back towards the town. “Would you like that? Having your father sign you into the hospital to spend your heat there?”

Stiles could only groan and try to clench his legs together to hold back the slick that was leaking out.

“Why aren't you on suppressors?"

“I am,” he finally gasped. “And birth control. I have to be on them in order to work with Alpha Weres. Deaton gives me the injections every few months.” He took a few breaths. “And I’m not in heat. Not a real one.”

“What triggered this?”

Stiles reached over the console and palmed the growing erection in Chris’s pants to answer the question. He squeezed it as Chris took a right turn and drove for about a hundred feet until he came to a chain-link fence. He put the car in park and knocked Stiles’s hand away. The Omega recoiled, pressing his back against the seat and breathing slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I thought-I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse.” He turned to look at the Alpha. “I came here because I was tense and wanted to blow off steam. I really did want to see Allison, but just to catch up. Forget what I said about the Omega Were. We never discuss those kinds of intakes. Not ever.”

Chris nodded accepting Stiles's answer and gripped the steering wheel. He stared out in front of them, not really looking at anything as they sat in silence. Stiles waited to see if the man was going to continue to shout at him and threaten him, or if he'd drive back to the parking lot and send Stiles home. The older man took a few deep breaths and then slammed his fist on the steering wheel and swore. To the Omega's surprise, he went for his belt buckle and had his pants open a moment later. Stiles lunged over the console and was on him like a cat on an anaconda. Chris groaned when Stiles’s mouth swallowed him down.

“Jesus kid," he said, voice filled with regret, "you’re gonna kill me.” He rested his hand on the back of the younger man’s neck and guided his bobbing head.

Stiles moaned and felt a painful tingling in his fingers as he finally had access to the Alpha. The swollen flesh grew hard, and hot, and huge in his hand and mouth. It felt so good to finally have what he needed. The Omega in him felt a surge of validation. _This is what I need. This is what I was meant to have._ He took his time, moving up and down the shaft, letting Chris’s hand guide him. He sucked, and sucked, and sucked; he knew he was making obscene moaning noises, but it was the best cock ever! He started to sit up and take off his shirt, but Chris’s fingers were in his hair. “Finish me,” he growled and pushed the Omega’s head back down. Stiles whined and squirmed because _Yes!_ He wanted Argent to make him take his length with his long fingers and his strong hands, but he also needed a knot so badly. He let Chris push him down until he was almost gagging, pull him up and push him down again.

Stiles felt another trickle of slick drip out and soak his underwear and then he heard Argent’s swift intake of breath. “Fine, get out.” Stiles blinked as he was removed from the dick. Chris was out of the SUV and walking around to his side. A panicked thought crossed his mind that Chris would leave him here.

“What?” he asked when Chris yanked open his door and dragged him out. “Don’t leave me,” he started to say, but Chris spun him around and shoved him face-down over the passenger seat. His hand clamped Stiles’ neck so tightly he felt more slick bubble out of him.

“You’re smelling to high heaven, I’ll have to get a Beta to air out the room you were in or everyone will know what you are.” Chris was growling as he unbuttoned Stiles's jeans and yanked them down over his ass along with his underwear. He managed to get them to the Omega’s knees before he pushed his hard cock against him. “You want this?” he asked, making certain. He was an honorable man, after all.

“Yes, please,” Stiles begged, shaking. He loved the moment when he had a cock pressing against his slick hole. Anticipation of what you want wrapped up with the satisfaction of knowing you were about to get it. He wanted to bottle that moment and keep it. More than half the time, it was better than the actual sex. Chris pushed and Stiles made an animal noise as he was split open and pierced. He wasn’t one of the Omegas who could just jerk off for his heat and even a blow job wouldn’t fully satisfy him. If he didn’t get a thick, hard cock in him, his heat would just drag on. He made a needy whine when Chris bottomed out and had to catch his breath because the Alpha made him feel so perfectly full.

“I swear kid, if you send me into a rut, and I have to miss work, I’ll tan your ass and you won’t sit for a week.” Stiles pushed back when Chris said it and quivered. To his surprise, the Alpha laughed. “Of course, you like that idea.” He gripped Stiles’ hip and dug in his nails. Stiles bucked back against him, but the Alpha squeezed his neck tighter and held him still. His voice lowered even deeper. “You’ll take your breeding like a good boy, won’t you?” Something in that ultra-deep voice made him clench inside.

“Yessss,” Stiles whispered as Chris drew back and started to thrust.

Stiles had been with some pretty enthusiastic partners during his heat, although few in the last few years, but none of them compared to the wild, animalistic fucking he got from Argent. “So hard,” he moaned, as the Alpha pounded him relentlessly. He could only hang on to the seat and brace himself to keep his dick from getting rubbed raw on the leather. “Gonna come,” he whispered.

“Not till I say,” snarled Chris as he hammered the Omega’s ass and Stiles could feel the knot already forming at the base of his dick. The older man’s nails dug into Stiles’s hip and he felt so close to coming he curled his toes in his shoes. He pushed it in easily and held still.

“Don’t stop,” Stiles begged, trying to pull off the knot. “Again.”

“Okay,” Chris grunted and popped back out. He rammed back in and at the frantic Omega’s urging, pulled it out slowly. The hunter had trouble with his nearly full knot and dragged Stiles off the seat, shoving him down to the floor mat. With a deeper angle, he rammed his knot into the younger man and it popped through.

“I-I can’t hold back,”

“I’m gonna fill you up and knot your ass,” he growled as he started to come. He let go of Stiles’s hip and it landed on his cheek with a loud smack. “Now, Stiles!” He rained down three hard blows, bit Stiles’s shoulder through the fabric of his shirt and Stiles clamped down on the knot and came so hard he blacked out.

~

Stiles didn’t remember Argent wrangling both of them into the passenger seat of the SUV but when his thoughts cleared, he was sitting on the hunter’s lap, leaning back against his chest on the reclined seat and stretched out on the man’s knot. The Omega in him was currently content, curled up and purring at the back of his mind. Chris’s hand was around Stiles’s throat, but his fingers were loose, and he rubbed a spot behind his ear.

“You awake?” Chris’s tone was neutral, the way it usually was.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, feeling his face burning with shame. He had the urge to apologize, but he hadn't intentionally provoked the Alpha, and he wasn't about to pretend that Argent had been helpless. He sighed and let his head thump back against the other man’s collarbone, making him grunt.

“When were you last tested?” Chris asked, making Stiles feel even more like the whore of Babylon. They hadn't used protection, and at the time he hadn't cared which made the shame burn hotter. 

“Six months ago,” he said. “I haven’t been with anyone since then.” He sighed again. “Except this one guy in Vegas a few weeks ago. We used a condom for fucking, but he blew me and ate me out.” Argent’s fingers tightened. “He might be clean, but he did a fuck and duck so maybe he does it a lot. He's barely said two civil words to me since then, and pretends it never happened, so I can't ask him.”

“You were asleep. I had a meeting to go to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't make it too obvious that Stiles was in a funk in the last chapter because of Argent.


	6. What happened in Vegas...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. Just porn. maybe some hint of plot.
> 
> Timeline-wise: This occurred immediately before the story began, and a few weeks after Isaac was brought in.

Las Vegas, several weeks earlier~

Stiles had locked away the cash and receipts and was rolling up the sign he’d hung up for the fight. He’d sold every single bottle of Essence and had given away about a hundred business cards and brochures. He stacked the unused brochures and order forms along with his tablet in a cardboard box while the crowd shuffled out around him. He’d taken off his jacket and button-up shirt and was down to just his t-shirt to avoid sweating to death; he was closer to the front doors than he’d like, and the streets had held on to the heat from the day.

“Good night for business?” The rich, velvet voice plucked a string inside Stiles and he smiled when he turned to see Chris Argent standing beside the table. The older man was dressed in a fitted pair of black slacks and a blue button-up shirt that was open at the neck.

“Sold out,” he said, smiling. “What are _you_ doing here?” The older man reached out a hand and Stiles wiped his sweaty palm on his pants before clasping it.

“I’m negotiating a contract with some developers who want to expand into California,” he said. “They’re looking for a single company that can do capture, transport and release in multiple regions of the country.”

“Sounds like they went to the right man,” Stiles said, “Or had the right man come to them.”

“Maybe,” Argent said, shrugging.

“Did you see the fight tonight?” Stiles asked. He and the hunter rarely exchanged more than a few words, and only when necessary.

“No, I was at dinner down the street.” He saw Stiles’s confused look. “Your father told me you’d be here this week, so I kept an eye out for you.” He glanced around. “Looks like I almost missed you.”

“Yeah, I was just finishing up. How long are you here?”

“Meeting in the morning, then flying out in the afternoon. You?”

“I’m staying across the street at the Bellagio till tomorrow night,” he jerked his chin at where the street was visible outside.

“Let me give you a hand,” Chris said, picking up one of the boxes by Stiles’s feet.

“I don’t want you to have to go out of your way,” Stiles said. “It’s a much easier now that I don’t have to carry the product.”

“It’s no trouble, I’m at the Bellagio too.” Stiles paused and Chris gave him a quick smile. “I like the fountains.”

“Okay, then.”

Stiles took the box with the money and his tablet, pulled the bold black and red phallic-themed table cover off and slung it around his shoulders. “Right this way.” Chris chuckled and followed him out and across the street. “Are you driving a hard bargain, with your potential clients Mr. Argent?”

“Chris, please,” he said. “They want to build in several states, including California,” he followed Stiles into the elevator, “but some places have only small time movers, or none at all and they have to deal with the red tape and high cost of dealing directly with the government, or law enforcement.”

“Do _you_ have branches in all these states?”

“No,” he replied.

The elevator doors opened, and Chris followed Stiles to his door. “If it was just handling things and sub-contracting out the work, it wouldn’t be so bad, most of the small outfits need the work.” He held Stiles’s jacket while the younger man unlocked and opened the door. He let out a groan as the icy-cool air enveloped him. Chris chuckled at the face he made.

“Lydia told me not to mention the heat,” Stiles said, kicking off his shoes and setting his box on the desk. He took the one Argent carried, and his coat. “She told me if I ever said, ‘it’s hot’, that people would be lining up to cut me because…you know…it’s Vegas. You only comment if it’s cold.” He took out his tablet and plugged it in to the charger on the desk and removed his wristwatch. “So, what is the problem?”

“If there’s nobody licensed except law enforcement or Fish and wildlife, it takes a lot more time and time equals money lost, so they want me to be locked into a contract where I take full responsibility of meeting deadlines and I’d have to eat any money they lose.”

“No risk for them at all.”

“That’s why I’m probably not going to sign.” He glanced around at the bed, desk and couch. “Not a bad room.”

“That’s a nice way of saying you got a king instead of a double.”

“It’s a nice way of saying I got a suite with a view and complimentary booze.” There was nothing condescending in the way he spoke. He held the younger man’s gaze steadily and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, if you like a view,” Stiles said, marching over to the window and throwing back the sheer curtains. “You can’t get classier than the roof of the restaurant next door. It’s got a three-star review on Yelp.com, and if you cast your gaze a little to the left,” he pointed down and Argent walked up behind him, “you can even see their dumpster and…the homeless guy peeing on the wall.”

“You’re right, I can’t beat that,” Chris said with a full-on laugh, and Stiles wondered if it was the first time he’d heard it.

“And I _did_ get free booze, actually.” He held up a finger and went to the bureau. “I was in San Diego on Monday and Tuesday. I met up with an old friend who’s a web designer and he gave me this as a belated birthday present.” He took a bottle of _Cutler’s 33_ out of a box beside the water glasses. “It’s produced in Santa Barbara, I’m told it’s pretty good.”

“When was your birthday?” the hunter asked.

“Three weeks ago,” he said, “The big two-six. It was a little before I…saw you last.”

“Right.” They were called _quiet_ intakes because you didn’t talk about them.

“Are you a bourbon drinker?” Stiles asked, picking up a glass and tossing the paper hat it wore to imply it was clean. “I’m not sure how a decent bourbon’s supposed to taste so I don’t know what I should tell Danny when he asks how I liked it.” He poured some into the glass and held it up. “Help me out?”

“Alright.” The older man took the glass and held it under his nose. “Everyone has different tastes, so someone else might like it more or less than I do.” He raised the glass and took a sip, holding it in his mouth while he closed his eyes before swallowing it.

“How does it taste to you?”

“A bit of vanilla, sweet on the lips, but it’s a dark sweetness like honey, and some smoke.” He looked at the younger man who had poured his own glass. “How does it taste to you?” Stiles’s gave no warning before moving forward; his mouth was on Argent’s, firm and insistent but brief. He pulled back and licked his lips.

“Yeah, I’m getting the sweetness. Kinda soft, with a hint of ‘Guy whose dick I’m gonna suck,’ but I’m not sure about the smoke.” He’d thought this moment might be awkward between them, but he was terrible at playing poker and Argent was nearly impossible to read. Nearly.

Chris took another sip of the bourbon and set down the glass; his expression didn’t change as he caught Stiles around the back of the neck and pulled him in. He claimed the Omega’s lips and caught the cotton of his t-shirt in a tight fist. It pulled the bottom of his shirt above the waistband of his pants, and with the tip of his little finger, the hunter brushed the soft skin where it dimpled at his lower back. He opened his mouth and slid his tongue against the cupid’s bow of the younger man’s top lip.

Stiles caught the hunter’s tongue and sucked it into his mouth, gently. He released it, seeing a hint of color in Chris’s cheeks. “I can taste the smoke now,” he said. He saw the moment the man paused to think and stepped back.

“Why did you kiss me, Stiles?” he asked, and Stiles knew he had the chance to step back and say he was sorry, but he wasn’t. And the hunter had kissed him back.

“One of us had to make the first move, and I figured if you flew all this way, so I could give you a break.” He stepped forward and ran his hand boldly over Argent’s ass. “Why did you wait so long before making an opportunity like this?”

“I didn’t-”

“You know what I am,” he said, curtly. “You’ve probably known for a while, and I know you’ve been dancing around me for over a year. But I didn’t peg you for one of those guys who can’t admit what he wants.”

“What do _you_ want, Stiles?” He didn’t break eye-contact when the Omega cupped a hand over the front of Chris’s pants, and rubbed the growing erection.

“Pretty sure I already told you.” He kissed Chris again and pushed him backwards, attacking him with a hungry mouth until they stumbled into the couch and eventually landed with Stiles straddling the Alpha’s lap.

“Your plan works for me,” he said, “if I get to reciprocate.” _Sure, you will._

“You might not need to. I get off on doing it.” _If I jerk off._ The lanky Omega slid smoothly to the floor, kneeling between Argent’s legs. He unfastened the hunter’s belt and unzipped his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear. He breathed in the warm smell of the Alpha and licked a line up the underside of the hardening cock. He was uncut, which was a first for Stiles, and he tongued the foreskin before enveloping the whole head in his mouth.

Chris sucked in a quick breath and shifted down, widening his knees and letting his head drop back to the couch cushion. He lifted a hand to Stiles’s face and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the sharp cheekbone that jutted out under his pale skin.

Stiles sucked him slow and hard. He took deep pulls as he went from the base to the head and back down. He didn’t lie about actually enjoying it, and however he felt about the men attached, he loved sucking Alpha cock most of all. It wasn’t the size; on average they were only slightly larger, but whenever he’d gone down on an Alpha, they always responded like they couldn’t help themselves. Something about them was more primal, more fierce, and he just couldn’t help _him_ self. He felt Chris’s hips start to move, and then the man’s fingers slid into his hair. He started to talk then, his voice getting even lower, and goosebumps rose along his skin.

“Your mouth feels so good. So soft, and slick, and hot. You suck cock like you were born for it.” His foot brushed over Stiles’s erection, already hard and throbbing without a touch. He nudged the Omega’s balls, gently and his grip tightened in his hair. Stiles released him with a groan, letting the saliva and pre-come drip off his lip. “Are you gonna be my good boy? You gonna let me take care of you.”

“Love your cock; it’s so big.” He worked it with his hand, and sucked the tip into his mouth again, trying to get back to the action. Argent stopped him and made him look up. Stiles let go of the man’s dick, petulantly stopping all hand and mouth action. Chris’s blue eyes were intense, and he ignored his neglected dick which stood hard and wet between them. “What?” Stiles let a hint of annoyance into his voice.

“Answer me.”

“You like it so far, right?” He tried to get his mouth around the head peeking out from the foreskin, but Argent tightened his grip. Annoyed, he looked up at the older man. Stiles wouldn’t be sucking his dick if he didn’t want to. He’d even made the first move.

“Stiles,” Argent said the word softly, “Is this what you like? Is this what you want?”

Stiles knew what was coming next; Argent had been married to a woman, he’d probably be one of the _I’m not gay, but I’m horny and I don’t care who sucks my dick. You’re the gay one who wants it so bad._ He also knew how to handle this type.

“If you’re backing out,” Stiles said, with a slight sneer, “it’s okay.” He placed his hands on Argent’s thighs and pushed himself up. It was like being at the club and running into one of the men who’d sought out the gay club, danced with him, bought him drinks and pursued him until he left with them to go to a motel, or just to the alley outside. The ones who pushed him to his knees but wouldn’t touch his dick. “I get it, you’re not into guys, you just didn’t want to hurt my feelings.” They projected the sexuality the encounter entirely onto Stiles, and after desperately seeking his attention, they would disengage themselves from the act.

Argent stood up, slowly with a gaze that went cold. The hard determination in the man’s icy blue eyes had none of the usual guilt, fear, or desperation Stiles was used to seeing. It flipped a switch in the Omega who had a moment of regret that the night was ending.

“I don’t know what set I said to upset you,” he began, but Stiles heard something else.

“Right, you don’t want me ‘to get the wrong idea about you,’ because there’s often miscommunication when it comes to dick-sucking.”

“I’m not here to play your little games,” the hunter said. Stiles had heard that before too. It was a favorite exit line of guys who didn’t want to draw attention. He hadn’t expected that from Argent.

“Sure, and I wouldn’t want you to do anything to tarnish your memory of your _wife_ ,” he spat back, trembling with anger and hurt. To his surprise, Argent looked suddenly calmer.

“You want me to get mad at you,” Chris said. “You’d rather have me get defensive and bail on you to protect your pride, than tell me what _you_ want and get rejected or _used_.” He stepped closer into Stiles’s face and clamped his fingers on the back of his neck. “Or maybe you think I’ll throw you down and give you the fucking you really want just to prove you wrong.” Stiles’s lips trembled before he brought them back to a sneer. He opened his mouth, but Chris spun him around and pinned him face-first against the wall in a maneuver that was embarrassingly effortless. “Think very hard before you speak again, Stiles. You implied I’m in denial about what I want, or too repressed to admit it.” He gave an extra squeeze as he leaned in to hiss in his ear. “And you brought up my dead wife to try to hurt me.” His voice got gentle again and he let his lips brush the Omega’s ear. “All that venom just because I asked for your full and clear consent before I made you my _Good Boy_.” His voice held something rigid and unyielding, and Stiles’s mask started to crack. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I-I can’t.” The words were out because he couldn’t stop them, something in the Alpha’s voice was drawing words from his sub-conscious mind without running them past his self-conscious mind. He tried to recover with a different kind of honesty. “I’m sorry for what I said about your wife.” He let out a deep breath and took a few shallow ones. “My mom would be… ashamed...of me.”

“Because of what you said, or what you are?”

“Both?”

“What can’t you do, Stiles?” Chris leaned in and wrapped his fingers around the bony hip. He squeezed and felt the lean body tense up and shudder. “Oh.” His voice got richer and he almost growled when he nuzzled the back of Stiles’s neck. “I think I get it.” He slid one hand from his hip to the front of his Boy’s pants. “I’ll replace anything I tear,” he said, “and you just tell me when it’s too much.” The cock under his hand jumped and Stiles could feel him smile against his neck. He gave a quick nod.

Chris pressed his thick erection against Stiles’s ass. The Omega pushed back, and his eyes fluttered closed. “This perfect ass,” he said, running his hands over it and squeezing. He released Stiles’s neck and brought both hands to the younger man’s shoulders. With a quick jerk, he tore the t-shirt down the back. Stiles jumped but didn’t fight when the hunter brought the sleeves down to his wrists and secured them in front of him by looping the cotton around them and doubling it. His breathing got heavier as he unbuckled the younger man’s belt and popped the snap before lowering the zipper.

Stiles lifted his bound hands and pressed his forehead against them into the wall as Chris reached into his pants. He spread his legs a little wider as the older man’s hand dipped in to squeeze his hard cock. He moaned as the broad, warm hand gently fondled his balls and went back up and gave his cock a quick stroke. Then another hand joined the first inside his underwear, sliding around to his ass and pushing underwear and pants down over the cheeks of his ass.

Chris’s breath was hot on Stiles’s back as he kissed down the knobby spine to where it dipped into the soft curve of his lower back. He rubbed his cheek on the pale, plump globes before giving one a quick bite, making the Omega yelp in surprise. He turned him around by the hips and pressed him back against the wall.

“Wha-?” Stiles panted just before Chris licked the length of his cock. “Oh God,” he moaned, and his fingers brushed the hunter’s hair. Cold blue eyes snapped up to him and he put his bound hands behind his head. His knees trembled as the Alpha deep-throated him on his first trip down the pole. Stiles didn’t have Chris’s girth, but he was long with a nice curve that the older man was handling without flinching. He started to inch his legs apart, but the older man gave his pants a hard tug, trapping his thighs. Whining, he tried to push his hips forward but got rebuffed and found himself pinned tightly to the wall while the Alpha got down to business.

With only a single orthodontically-related incident, every blowjob Stiles had received had been good. It was difficult to do it badly as long as you sealed your lips around it and moved, but he’d known what he liked, and when he’d discovered his attraction to both genders, he’d wanted to be great at doing it. When some people in college had found out he was an Omega, he was glad he’d had it in his arsenal already. Instead of the lanky, awkward, hyperactive Omega who flailed around awkwardly, he was _the Omega who sucked amazing dick_. The others who came to mind were _the_ _Omega who had a stick up his ass_ like Randall, or _the Omega who’d made a rape accusation against a football player_ like Keith, or _the Omega who was engaged to the giant Jamaican Alpha so keep the fuck away_ , like Jerry.

As he felt his brain being sucked out of his skull, Stiles found himself alternating between three states of mind: being confused, being impressed, and being unable to think at all. One thing that had confused Stiles was that in the Argent marriage, Victoria was the sole wearer of any and all proverbial pants. She hadn’t been a shrew and Chris wasn’t a doormat, but she had been a natural leader and he was…quiet. Stiles had believed it was fear or denial that had kept the hunter-who worked with traditionally bigoted types-from making an overt move. Chris had surprised him by not only responding to his aggressive kiss but dominating their encounter. Stiles hadn’t been able to intimidate him or throw off his focus with his usual tricks; he’d countered each one and turned the tables. So much for his theory that he was repressed to the point of celibacy; Chris’s oral performance blew that away. _Heh._

Stiles was impressed because Argent had serious skill, and not the kind that could be explained away with beginner’s luck, or a natural gift. The hunter was both aggressive and gentle at the same time; that kind of technique took practice. Like on actual dicks. Stiles was thrown back and forth between wanting to beg him to never stop doing that thing with his tongue and wanting to stop him and ask what nerve root he was compressing to make it feel like the suction was reaching down into his toes. He settled for making a choking sound, and then a sound that came close to a dying giraffe before hunching forward and curling over the hunter.

“I’m gonna come,” he wheezed.

Chris didn’t answer, he just hollowed his cheeks and caught the load, swallowing it smoothly and sucking just until Stiles got oversensitive.

With knees like jelly, Stiles let himself be guided to the bed. Chris pulled back the covers and his bare ass hit clean sheets. He fell back and panted, covering his eyes with his bound wrists. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to look at the hunter, but he just wanted a few extra breaths separating _now_ from _what’s next?_ He had a few choices: he could resume the blowjob from earlier; the one he’d made awkward by trying to pull his usual defensive shit, he could pretend to fall asleep-which wouldn’t work, he could ask what happened next like a _Good Boy_ , or he could attempt to claim the high ground in their dynamic by giving Chris a flippant dismissal. He wanted to suck the man’s dick, but he knew he was already Annakin to Chris’s BJ-Obi-Wan; and contemplated attacking with feigned, cruel indifference in order to stop Chris from comparing their skills. The hunter cut an arm and both legs off Stiles’s plan and left it burning when he spoke.

“Turn over.”

Stiles’s body responded to the tone before Stiles’s brain processed the command. Argent didn’t even have the decency to sound hoarse from having a dick down his throat. Stiles submitted quietly to the Alpha. Chris guided his knees under him, still trapped in his pants and underwear. Stiles felt his face getting hotter with each moment he rested with his ass in the air, but not with embarrassment. He was starting to pant again out of anticipation. He felt Chris’s warm hand on his hip and then pressure on his lower back as he rubbed a little circle before trailing down to brush a thumb over his hole. “Good boy,” he said, softly as the heat of his breath made it twitch.

Argent’s palms each cupped a cheek and squeezed. He pulled them apart and pressed his face in the center. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as the hunter began to lick. He couldn’t stop the moans that came from his mouth with each stroke of the man’s tongue. After his orgasm he was sensitive but also relaxed and felt his body giving way to Chris. He arched his back, presenting instinctively, and felt a tear soak into his torn shirt. He wasn’t even in heat and he had no control over himself as his arms slipped on the bottom sheet, too taut against the mattress to grasp in his efforts to push back.

Chris started pressing his tongue inside and Stiles just opened up for him, knowing that the other man would be able to taste his slick. He’d know how wet Stiles was for him. His face would get sloppy with the evidence of his weakness. It was only a matter of time before Stiles would be begging and pleading for the Alpha to satisfy him. Fear made him clench his teeth and ball up his fists, gathering his wits for a final stab at resistance. He wasn’t someone who’d be so desperate for penetration that he’d let anyone fuck him. He wasn’t like Isaac who had been acting solely on instinct when he’d blindly scrabbled in the dirty straw to push his ass at an Alpha. He wasn’t an animal.

“Uhhh,” he groaned; he needed to try harder. “Yesss, more.” His own high, needy voice was as embarrassing as the plea, but then a long digit was pressing inside him and stretching him open with a second joining it a moment later. He jerked backwards and arched his back, silently begging for another.

“You like the burn,” Chris purred as he pushed three fingers into Stiles’s ass. The Omega held himself still and let his head drop down onto his clenched fists. _This._ This was what he wanted. Kissing had been a rush as he’d risked rejection. Sucking Argent’s cock had been hot and arousing as the normally reserved hunter had responded. The confrontation had been a surprise when it devolved into Chris jabbing at his insecurity, stripping his defenses, and Stiles admitting defeat. The subsequent blowjob he’d received had been a revelation even as his ego took its spanking like a good boy when presented with irrefutable evidence that he was out-classed in every way by a guy old enough to be his father.

Now Stiles was being controlled by the Alpha. No-he was giving up control, giving over completely as Chris gave him exactly what he needed. The fingers pressed deep, rubbing over his sensitive prostate and his belly clenched as his slowly recovering dick tried to rejoin the party. Then they spread, stretching him out to accommodate something bigger. He didn’t want that. He needed the burn of being taken, forced to make space for the organ.

“Not too much,” Stiles said, while trying to spread his legs wider. “I mean-” he couldn’t articulate what he wanted. Chris would stop if he couldn’t figure out what to say. The fingers withdrew and he whined with disappointment but then felt the familiar tickly brush of the reservoir tip of a condom followed quickly by the blunt pressure of a cock head at his entrance. He hadn’t noticed the hunter putting it on, but here they were, seamlessly moving from prep to fuck.

“I know,” Chris said, and Stiles felt the brush of the man’s sleeve against his hip as he rested a hand on the Omega’s waist.

“Take off your shirt,” he said, desperately. “Please.” He wasn’t aware of wanting to feel the older man’s skin until the request was out of his mouth.

“Anything you want.” Stiles heard the soft sound of fabric sliding over skin, and that wonderful cock didn’t stop moving. The Alpha slid his sheathed erection between the Omega’s cheeks and rubbed back and forth while he undressed. When Stiles shifted, Chris lifted the younger man’s knees, one at a time, and pushed his pants and underwear down his legs and off. _Anything I want_. While he contemplated the idea of asking for what he wanted, his mouth and body jumped ahead and made the decision for him.

“Fuck me,” Stiles moaned, arching his back, spreading his legs, and pushing his ass out. _Like a proper Omega slut._ He ignored the voice inside his head. “Please.” Because yeah, he would be a Good Boy. The pressure against his ass turned into a delicious burn as he was split open.

A few tears ran down Stiles’s nose before hitting the sheet. His toes curled, his feet flexed, and his knees bent as he tried to breathe through the pressure. He kept expecting Chris to bottom-out, but the man was going so slowly, and he had so much dick to push, it went on forever. Big, warm hands wrapped around his hip bones, holding him steady until he finally felt the older man’s pelvis brush his ass. He breathed out, wiping his eyes on the shirt and lowering his trembling legs until they rested on the mattress.

A tightening of the fingers digging into his hips was all the warning Stiles had before Chris started fucking him. There were no slow, careful movements to test the waters, he just started railing the Omega’s ass. Little gasps and squeaks were getting knocked out of the younger man as he was jostled and jarred hard enough that his elbows slid forward and he landed on his face, causing the Alpha to grunt with satisfaction at the deeper penetration. He punched into Stiles with a particularly hard thrust and wasn’t even getting winded as he set a brutal pace with his Boy. Stiles was jarred by the impact of the hunter’s hips on his ass until his knees slipped off the edge of the mattress.

Chris withdrew, drawing a whine out of Stiles, as he rearranged his boy’s legs, pushing his left knee up and to the side and rolling him onto his hip. He straddled Stiles’s right thigh and pushed back in, hooking a hand on where his hip and thigh met and using it to pull the Omega back onto him. He reached down and stroked his semi-hard cock, making the younger man jerk and clench around him.

“Tell me what you want?” Chris’s voice cut through Stiles’s haze of sensation. “How do you want to come? Like this?”

“I want-” he gasped for breath, “I want your knot.” He scrambled for something to hold onto. “Fuck! I want you to knot me.”

“You’re not in heat,” Chris replied. “It’ll be too much for you.” He paused his thrusting to do a deep grind that caught his Boy’s prostate.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a groan and a slight sneer. “Can’t knot outside your ruts?” He knew Chris would take it in jest, it’s not like he was in any position to question the older man’s virility while he took a pounding that should probably be written up in a medical journal.

“I won’t hurt you,” Chris corrected. “You’re barely taking me now.” There was no vanity in the comment. Chris was hung.

“No kidding,” Stiles grunted. “It’s like getting fucked by a scuba tank.”

Chris faltered, then, laughing as he pulled out and rolled his Boy onto his back. He pushed Stiles sideways and up to the remaining pillow. He paused to kick off his shoes, remove his pants and underwear and then climbed onto the mattress between Stiles’s legs. He fell over him, catching himself in a plank and did half a push-up to kiss Stiles on the lips. His smile looked genuine and…happy. Stiles noticed it and smiled too. At least, until Argent folded him in half, pushing his knees until Stiles’s ass was pointed upwards. “Oh God,” he wheezed. He could almost see his own asshole; Argent aiming his cock at it made him feel like he was staring down the barrel of a cannon.

“You’re coming on my cock, you understand?” Chris raised his brows as the head of his cock poked through the first ring of muscle. His expression didn’t change as he watched Stiles nodding. His mouth quirked at the side when he bumped the prostate head-on.

“Oh, Jesus Fuck!” Stiles flushed from his face down to his collarbones. The sensation was intense, bordering on painful. Chris eased back on his legs, leaving them hooked over his elbows as he pushed in to the hilt.

“Hands over your head,” he said and pushed Stiles’s loosely bound wrists. The younger man gripped the headboard like he was doing a pull-up. He tightened his fingers as Chris slid almost all the way out and then slammed back in. He watched the older man’s face as he hovered over him. The sensations of getting his prostate nailed with each thrust cranked up the intensity and he almost told Argent to slow down. Instead he screamed and came in spurts over his chest as his body clenched with the spasms. “Good Boy,” Chris said with a grin, and then his face got a more determined look.

The hunter chased his own orgasm, thrusting deep and fast while growling out words in his Boy’s ear. “Wanna come inside you, make you wet and messy so I’m dripping out of you for days. Gonna fuck you on ever flat surface here, and then do it upstairs in my suite.” Stiles moaned with relief when Chris finally came with five hard, deep thrusts that nearly drove the Omega into the headboard. The lean, muscular body tensed, flushed red with exertion as his penis pulsed inside the tight passage.

Stiles’s hole was so oversensitive that he felt each surge through the condom as Argent’s massive cock swelled just a tiny bit more with each muscular contraction. He was nearly speechless as his legs were lowered to the mattress. He was definitely unable to walk and lay like a limp rag doll as Chris withdrew to dispose of the condom and went to the bathroom. He liked the view on the way, but the return trip was better when the man brought a warm washcloth to clean off the Omega’s chest and then untied his wrists. Stiles could have done it himself, since they were fairly loose, but he liked leaving them on.

Stiles fell asleep with Argent spooning him, but he was alone when he woke.

~

“When were you tested?” Stiles asked, ignoring Argent’s excuse; he certainly couldn’t ignore the man while he was knotted by him.

“About two months ago,” the Alpha replied. “I’m clean, you’re the only person I’ve been with since-”

“How long does your knot last?” Stiles interrupted, and then sucked in a breath and grabbed the hunter’s arms, digging his fingers in as the Alpha rolled his hips, making the knot tug at his rim.

“Hard to say,” he replied, drily, clearly not amused by Stiles’s impatience.

When the knot went down, Chris had Stiles fish some tissues out of his glove compartment. They minimized the mess and he drove Stiles back to his jeep. Stiles said nothing to Argent when he got out of the SUV. He drove home and took a long shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has been targeted because of his Omega status by men with internalized homophobia, his defensive behavior with Chris is because of that.


	7. Trust your instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several kinds of action. And smut.

Stiles kept focused on work for the next week, and there was plenty of it. Trouble always seemed to pop up when they were short-handed. The rainy spell had passed, and October was back to its mild and pleasant self. The stable Weres needed exercise and were brought out in groups to play. They had an adoption event in a few days, and they wanted the strong candidates in good spirits and the weaker ones worn out. They probably had a dozen or more who were likely to find new homes, and Lydia was getting eye strain from vetting the online adoption applications.

The shelter had a handful of part-time employees who had been busy training the wild Weres with the basic commands, as well as getting them used to wearing at least a small amount of clothing. The clothing was proving the hardest with the stubborn group. Starting with a basic, short sarong was the first step; getting it to consistently cover genitals was the second. Step one had gone fairly well, but mating season always made things more challenging. The first day outside in large groups was carefully planned for one when they had the most staff and volunteers available.

Deaton had put up barriers to divide up the outdoor exercise area and put groups of four to eight Weres together. Francis and Solomon were put with a sweet, young Beta named Irving, and a shy, older one named Roger. They mingled relatively well with friendly greetings and the initiation of play. Next, Kira and Malia went out with six of the younger Weres who were between ten and their early teens. Malia was standoffish with the younger ones at first, but Kira was patient and directed the youngsters’ play.

Liam, a slender round-faced Beta named Hayden, and a handful of pack elders made up the last group for the morning session. It was clear that despite his Alpha status, Liam was not the _pack’s_ Alpha. He spent much of the morning being chased by Hayden and hiding behind the older Weres. The Beta male group had seemed to be doing well at first, but Stiles received a call on the walkie-talkie asking him to go to their section. When he arrived, he saw a slightly red-faced Rhonda standing in front of the fence.

“This is why we let them out for a few days before an adoption event,” Stiles said with an eye-roll. “They’re always worse this time of year, it’s why we prefer to do big intakes in the spring.”

“Solomon does this a lot to Francis, but Francis is usually so passive. And Irving didn’t seem the type.” Rhonda was nearing seventy and had seen some things in her day. As a retired nurse, it took a lot to startle her.

“They have some imagination.”

Francis was straddling Roger’s face and holding his legs in the air while Irving pounded the supine Beta. Solomon was sucking Roger’s dick, and when Irving snarled and came, he pulled out and Solomon took his place, immediately plunging into the come-soaked hole. Francis stood up and turned around, managing to mount Roger’s erection and start riding him. Irving curled up around Roger’s head and casually groomed the other beta.

“I knew it was a mistake to name him _Roger_ ,” Rhonda said. Stiles choked as the older woman gave him a wink. “So, we just let them get it out of their systems?”

“Would you want to try and break that up?”

“Not before Roger has a chance to nut at least once,” she said. “He really is being a very good sport, and at least they’ve kept their sarongs on.”

The clever Weres had opted to use the sarongs as handles to get better leverage. It wasn’t the only ‘bonding’ Stiles encountered that day; Hayden declared herself dominant and rode Liam’s face before riding his cock while he howled and desperately tried to please her. He counted his blessings, though; The Wild Were that the Argents brought in was the mother of the cubs Rhonda had been training. Rhonda, who had a gift for gentling the wildest souls, had focused her attention on the Alpha female after that. They did careful re-introductions so the Alpha wouldn’t get protective of her cubs but would associate the shelter with being reunited. It was a much-needed win for the shelter because it resulted in a follow-up story on the news which flooded them with offers to foster the trio.

~

Allison had extended an invitation to Stiles, Scott and Lydia to join her on Friday for dinner. Deaton had hired Theo, Tracy, and the quiet kid who was practically invisible as per-diem employees, so it meant that the senior staff would be able to leave early on Friday. On Monday, Stiles walked Theo through the process of closing the shelter; Theo seemed enthusiastic about having more responsibility, and he was getting better at dodging Liam’s airborn attempts to make friends. Stiles was a little nervous about the dinner, because he didn’t want to ask Allison if her father was going to be home. He dealt with his anxiety by baking.

Stiles didn’t like to make a big deal out of it, but he was quite good at baking. His father’s long hours coupled with being a single-income home with a growing boy had pushed Stiles to learn the basics. The habit of making things from scratch like basic breads, a pot of stew, or a whole roasted chicken had stuck with him. On Tuesday, his day off, he put a chicken into his crock pot with some vegetables and fresh herbs, set it on high and started baking a loaf of Vienna bread. He liked it because it was good for sandwiches or rolls. He was kneading it with his sleeves rolled up when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Stiles hadn’t been expecting company, but he was genuinely surprised when Chris Argent walked through the door. He looked different; not cold and dismissive the way he was during his visits to the farm, or customer-service friendly like he’d been when Stiles had first arrived at the firing range, and not the carefully controlled Alpha he’d been during sex. He looked…vulnerable.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, continuing to knead the dough. The hunter closed and locked the door in a movement that was so very ‘Dad’ because of the pause before he flipped the deadbolt. It said _You know you should keep this locked, even when you’re inside._

“Why did you come here?” he asked, turning the dough into an oiled bowl. “Just be…direct. Tell me what you want, okay?” He tore off a piece of plastic wrap and covered the bowl. “I’ve got good instincts about people, but for whatever reason you never do what I expect.” He scraped the excess flour and little bits of dough up and dumped them in the trash before turning to wash his hands at the sink.

“I came to give you this.” When he spoke, Stiles turned around, drying his hands on a towel that hung from the oven handle. Argent took a black, plastic bag out of the pocket of his jacket. Stiles recognized it from one of the stores at the mall. The older man stepped forward and held it out. “Whatever else I am, I do my best to keep my promises.”

The bag held a white t-shirt. It was new, soft and thick. It was a nicer brand than the thin undershirt Chris had torn off his back, and probably cost more than any of his other shirts.

“This is much nicer than the old one.” He put it in the bag and set it on the counter. “Thank you,” he said. Now he was embarrassed for laying out his insecurities, assuming Chris wanted to interact with him, and the man was giving him closure to their encounters. Debts paid. Loose ends tied.

“You weren’t wrong,” Chris said, his arms were by his sides and his posture was straight. Stiles looked at him in confusion. “In Vegas. When you implied that I made an effort to cross paths with you.” He waited a beat and then continued. “You were right; you noticed me…noticing you and avoiding you.”

“For how long?”

“When did you notice?”

“I thought I caught you checking out my ass once, that was a few years ago, but last year you started looking like you wanted to keep a minimum distance. At first, I thought you didn’t want to associate with an Omega, regardless of where your eyes wandered. Then I’d catch you watching me, like at Christmas last year.”

“Most men won’t admit it, but we started checking out asses as teenagers, and we never really stop checking out teenaged asses. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“When I was a teenager, I checked out your wife’s ass before I started looking at yours.”

“She did have a nice one,” Chris said, looking absolutely serious.

“I might have imagined you dying in an accident and consoling her, but to be honest, I imagined that same scenario with Melissa McCall.”

“Another fine ass.”

“Did you date men when you were younger?”

“Date? No. That kind of thing wouldn’t have been allowed. I wasn’t enough of an activist to fight, and I liked girls too, so other than a few experiments with a like-minded companion, I stuck with women, and I married young.”

“And your wife was hot. Did you continue experimenting when you were married?”

“Victoria and I were not opposed to occasionally having…company from time to time. That’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

“So, when did checking me out start meaning something?”

“I started seeking out men after Victoria died, and I saw you once or twice. I avoided you in case you’d seen me. I was afraid you’d ask me how I liked the drinks at certain clubs or coffee shops.”

“I’d never be so crass,” Stiles waved away the suggestion. “I’d probably give you a look, and say, ‘Hey daddy can we go on a pony ride?’ or something like that.” He took Chris’s laughter as a good sign. Maybe they could get past this and be civil to each other. “I’d never say anything outside of said bars and coffee shops, but I might’ve offered to buy you a drink if I saw you in one.”

“I’m sorry that I was dismissive of you after Vegas.” Chris looked genuinely pained. “Something happened after I left your room, and I felt like my privacy was compromised.” He looked grim and took a step closer to Stiles. “The success of my company is largely due to its public image, and any actions I take that threaten it would jeopardize the jobs of our employees and Allison’s future. It’s my responsibility to put their needs ahead of my personal life while I’m in a leadership position, and I have to make sure Allison’s ready before I can step down.” He let his eyes move over Stiles’s face. “Unfortunately, being romantically linked to a man who was my daughter’s classmate could potentially put us out of business, and if it became known in my family, Allison’s position would be threatened.”

“The worst part about it is that nobody would bat an eyelash if you were romantically linked to Lydia.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “It was stupid of me to go to Vegas.” He moved closer until they were inches apart. “Your father talked about it, and how he was worried that Lydia wouldn’t be there to keep you out of trouble.”

Stiles scoffed for a moment and then looked thoughtful.

“If I hadn’t seen you, towards trouble’s exactly where I would’ve headed.”

“I asked him where you were staying, and he said you wanted to see the fountains at the Bellagio. So, I changed the date of my meeting, I changed my hotel reservations, I even suggested the restaurant for dinner, so I’d be close to the fight.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to be alone with you. No interruptions, no family, no emergencies. I paid for an upgraded room hoping I could get you into it.”

“You dirty scoundrel.”

“It’s the lamest ‘old man hitting on a young guy’ trick, really.” Argent looked defeated. “I just didn’t want that one opportunity to pass by without at least trying.”

“If things had gone as planned?”

“I would have talked to you about my situation, and the limitations my job put on me.”

“I get it. Really, people make assumptions about you and then get angry because their version of you was inaccurate.”

“I’d wanted to spend the next day in bed with you, and I’d have extended my stay for another night if it meant drawing out our time together.”

“I’m flattered.”

“I’m sorry I was angry when you came to the range. I was afraid you were going to cause a scene. And then when I got you alone, I was sure I was going to lose control and end up bending you over the barrier and knotting you on top of a pile of guns.”

“That’s got to be someone’s fantasy.” He looked curious. “What did you say to whoever was there about being gone, and me vanishing out the back door?”

“I’d booked a two-hour block, so nobody was expecting me back right away.”

“Was Allison really gone?”

“Yes. I saw you pull in, and I asked her to pick up lunch.”

“You…platonic-blocked your daughter so you could be free to stick your cock in me for up to two hours. That’s diabolical.”

“I sent Allison away because I thought you were going to tell her about us.”

“Oh, you thought ghosting me in Vegas and giving me the cold-shoulder at my workplace would make me upset?”

“You had every right, but I don’t actually have your cell number. It’s stupid, but the only people I could ask would be suspicious because I have your work number.”

“You couldn’t get it off Allison’s phone?”

“She an arms dealer, she has so much security on her phone it takes her ten minutes to unlock.”

“You could’ve slipped me your business card, or something.” He saw Argent blink a few times. “You didn’t think of that?”

“I tried to find out where you live. I got it in my head that I should talk to you in person, and I was sure I’d be able to find you. I just focused on that; I didn’t expect to catch a wild Were and see you while I was with Allison before I’d had a chance to explain.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s got an instinct for cock-blocking me so I couldn’t say anything while I was there; I swear she wants me to be a monk.”

“Pretty sure Scott said the same thing about you in high school.”

“Good.” He was still a dad.

“Thank you for the shirt,” Stiles said.

“You said that already.”

“No, that was for the improvised quickie that turned into the most awkward knotting in history. I Honestly don’t have a clue how you managed to get both of us back in the car.” The hunter laughed and the tension dissolved. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Allison mentioned having you over, and I asked where Scott, you and Lydia were ‘living these days’.” He made air quotes. “I even made it sound like I was expecting you all to be freeloading off your parents. She was quick to correct me. Anyway, I drove over here and saw your vehicle. Your apartment number had Stilinski on it.”

“Good detective work.”

“I didn’t want any more time to go by without letting you know how I felt; it was too important.” He looked a little more relaxed now, maybe even a little lighter.

“I appreciate it.” Stiles frowned. “You said something happened in Vegas. Did you see someone from back home?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I don’t care if it's complicated, I want to know if I need to watch my back.” Stiles was a little more serious. “Your father gives me the creeps and your sister looks like she wants to give me the Bad Touch.”

“Your instincts are good, you should stay away from both of them.”

~

Chris left Stiles’s apartment with a sandwich bag filled with ginger snaps. He went out to his SUV and paused with his hand on the door of his car.

“Hey big brother.”

“Hey,” Chris replied, relaxing and turning to see Kate. He leaned against the car door, opened the bag, and held it out to her. “You thinking of getting a place?” he nodded at the ‘Now accepting applications’ sign on the next building over. Kate slithered up next to him and peeked into the bag.

“Yummy,” she said, taking one out. “Got a little side-piece living out here?”

“Yes, I keep my mistresses in style here with the efficiencies.” He popped a cookie in his mouth. “ _Are_ you thinking of getting a place of your own out here?” he asked again. “Stiles told me the corner units are smaller, so they don’t get charged extra for a parking spot.”

“Sssstiles?” She went from sly to curious. She’d been following him, he knew it, but now she was going to pretend to be friendly since he wasn’t acting guilty.

“Stilinski. He’s the Sheriff’s kid, graduated with Allison. Have you done any releases to the shelter that’s run by the vet?”

“That’s the one on the farm, right?”

“Yeah, he works there.”

“What does he look like?”

“Dark hair, lean build, probably a buck fifty, kinda twitchy.” His sister would have been suspicious if he hadn’t taken in details about Stiles.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“So, are you thinking of getting a place or are you following me again?”

“I saw your SUV, I was nosy.” Kate shrugged.

“What else is new?” he said and closed the bag before she could get another cookie. “I have to get back to the range.” He got in and shut the door, but he didn’t hurry to leave. He put on his sunglasses, set the cookies beside him and started the car. If she wanted to talk to him, his window was down. She went back to her own car and he pulled out of the parking lot. He was tempted to call Stiles-now that he had his number-but the kid would do better on his own.

~

“I’m lucky that I work in such a liberal sector,” Stiles said on Friday morning. “Non-profit animal rescue has no time for prejudice.” Peter didn’t say anything he just pushed his hips forward with Stiles’s strokes. “I grew up in a pretty rainbow-friendly state, but if I’d followed my dad and gone into law enforcement, my co-workers might not have appreciated my position on the Kinsey scale.” Peter started to grunt, and groan and Stiles caught his essence in the collection jar, he made sure the Were was wrung out before taking him back to his stall. He swiped his card and typed in his code, dropping the electrical field and opening the door.

Peter seemed moody, so Stiles spent some time with him, scratching his scalp, rubbing his arms and legs, and eventually he got the Were rumbling and pushing into his touch. He gave him a ginger snap before he left and gave each of the other Weres a cookie. He stopped by Ennis’s stall and the massive creature approached the bars. Stiles tossed him a cookie which was devoured with a single snap, and then Stiles looked to the right and left before sidling over to the bars. He held up a second cookie between his index and middle finger, like a bribe.

“One more?” Ennis carefully reached through the bars and gently took the cookie. “Don’t tell anyone I gave you an extra.” Stiles walked out, not wanting to hear the grumbling when Ennis _did_ make sure the other Weres knew he’d been given an extra cookie. Peter would be impossible over the weekend but Stiles wanted to regain ground with Ennis, and put him in a good mood; he had a ‘date’ scheduled with a female Alpha for the next week.

Stiles hadn’t been to the Argents’ house since the previous Christmas, it was far less festive now, but no less intimidating. He rode with Lydia - in case one of them had too much to drink - and followed the redhead to the front door. Over the next few hours, the four friends prepped, cooked and ate dinner together. It was the best kind of dinner party, as far as Stiles was concerned because cooperating with the food was an automatic icebreaker and had conversation built in. They relaxed into their work with beer and cocktails flowing freely enough to relax them, but not so much that they risked any digits under the chopping knife.

The evening was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t like ‘Old Times’ with the four of them. Too much had changed and none of them wanted to go back to the way things were. When Lydia asked Allison about traveling, she talked about France and trying to navigate the social cues as well as the language. It made Stiles feel a small pang of regret because he’d never ended up traveling the way he’d vowed he would. He’d taken trips during college, but most of them had been in north America. He knew Scott might have felt the same way, but the vet student had a pragmatism that made it easier for him to accept things.

They were just finishing dinner when Chris came home. He said a quick hello and paused to chat when Lydia drew him into conversation. He’d always had a soft spot for Lydia. Nearly everyone did, either that or a hard spot. Despite taking a more practical approach to her personal grooming than in high school and college, she was a beautiful woman with a lot of charisma and confidence.

“So, how’s work going for you guys?” Allison asked.

The deluge of complaints, praises, and anecdotes kept the pretty hunter occupied for another hour and a half. Lydia was falling asleep at that point and Allison steered her to the guest room. The way she and Scott had been flirting steered McCall’s decision to accept her invitation to ‘sleep off’ his handful of beers. Stiles knew his friend was sober, but bro-code prevented any resentment. He was about to pull up his Uber app when Chris came downstairs, keys in hand, and said he’d forgotten his laptop at the range and was going to get it. Allison jumped on the opportunity and asked if he could drop Stiles off at the shelter to get his jeep.

“Sure,” Chris replied.

Stiles put on his shoes, kissed Allison on the cheek, and then Scott, for the sake of consistency. He followed the Alpha out to the big, black SUV that had featured so prominently in his recent fantasies.

“Are we going all the way back to the range or are you planning to pull over?” Stiles asked. Chris didn’t answer, but his eyebrows went up. “I’m only asking because your laptop is behind your seat.”

“I must be getting old and senile,” he said, and pulled over. He parked at the edge of a field about a half-mile from the shelter and got out. He opened the back door, climbed in, shut it behind him, unbuckled Stiles’s seat belt and dragged him into the back seat.

“What happened to your need for privacy?” the Omega asked as he clawed at the hunter’s belt. “And invest in some sweatpants!” He paused to whine when Argent pushed up his t-shirt and sucked on a nipple.

“It’s private here,” he growled, and then he kissed Stiles. The kiss was long, and surprisingly slow and intimate considering their race to loosen and shove down enough clothing to free up the bits that needed freedom. “You asked me to tell you what I want, and this is it.” He leaned over and pushed the younger man’s pants down far enough to get at his cock.

“Fuck me. You have to fuck me,” the Omega whined as Chris sucked him hard and fast. “You can’t expect me to settle for a blowjob after the last time I got in your car.” The men struggled with the awkward space, but eventually Stiles knelt on the floor with his hands braced against the back door as Chris shoved his own pants down. He was already wet; as soon as he’d seen the laptop resting innocently against the driver’s seat, he’d known he would be in for a dicking. The hunter didn’t touch his hole with fingers or tongue, he just pushed the broad head of his cock against the tight pucker. He surprised the younger man with his impatience.

“Bear down,” he said in his ‘sex voice’. “You can take it.” The command made Stiles go all quivery and he bore down on the massive organ that was slowly pushing inside. Once he felt his body give, he let out a soft cry as the rest of him was forced open by the first, delicious push. It was too intense, and Stiles needed to drop down to the floor. “Good Boy.” There was a hand between his shoulder blades and then he was getting fucked. Deep, ramming thrusts that relentlessly drove him towards orgasm, and soft, low grunts as Chris just _gave_ it to him.

“I’m close,” Stiles mumbled, unable to move from where he was folded up on the floor. Chris didn’t slow down, he just kept nailing his Boy until he came, and kept going until he pumped his own release into the Omega. They panted for a full minute, catching their breaths. “Next time,” he said, when he could speak again, “can you just fold down the seats?” He heard Chris chuckle and then the Alpha was pulling out. He had tissues ready and held them over Stiles’ gaping hole. He cleaned up the immediate mess, but the younger man was sure he’d be leaking for a while.

They didn’t kiss afterwards, or make plans for their next meetup, but Chris smirked as he opened his travel mug and splashed cold coffee on the spot where Stiles had jizzed on the gray carpet. Yeah, okay, the car did kinda reek of sex.

“I’m getting it detailed tomorrow,” he said.

“You timed the plowing of my ass for when you were getting your car cleaned?”

“Thanks to an unscheduled knotting, there’s already a bit of your personal decoration on the passenger seat, I just figured I’d be thrifty and get the next round done before I clean it.”

“I guess it makes sense.”

“Where are you parked?”

“You can just drop me by the side gate; it’s closer and if the Weres hear a strange car, they might get rowdy.”

“Sure.”

They didn’t kiss goodnight, and they didn’t make plans for their next round of sex, but the surprise dicking at any moment worked for Stiles. He jogged up the hill behind the stable but paused as he passed the main entrance and retail shop that was used for customers and potential adopters. The interior of the shop was dark, but there was a light flickering from inside. He worried about fire for a second, and then realized he was looking at the beam to a flashlight. Hairs prickled on the back of his neck prickled and he glanced up at the house. The windows were dark, and so was the front porch which was always illuminated. Moving around the back of the building, Stiles found a van parked near a side exit with Nevada plates and no logo. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when he realized the lights outside the barn were out as well. The main building and the barn were on different breakers, and it was possible that there was a power outage, but his instincts told him something was wrong..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I changed the last bit to back up a step, I felt like it was too rushed.


	8. Occam's Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break-in yields some interesting developments.
> 
> *There is blood and violence in this chapter*

Occam’s Razor had been Sheriff Stilinski’s best defense against Stiles’s crime-solving theories. Being a single father and having a curious son with an attention-span problem meant that he’d either have to continuously tell his son to leave him alone or find a way to make him feel included. John had eventually found that it benefitted him to talk about his cases, because his son’s quick mind kept him sharper, and sometimes his clever son had some pretty good ideas. Most of the time, however, it was John steering Stiles away from conspiracies and elaborate schemes. He’d paraphrased the principle: “The most obvious answer is probably correct,” and explained to Stiles that if there was more than one theory that could explain a situation, they usually went with the theory that required fewer assumptions.

There were flashlights inside the shelter, and a strange van outside; the lights at Deaton’s house, even the ones he always left on, were off. The simplest answer was that the power was out, he’d called an electrician, and they were inside. He pulled out his phone and headed down the hill towards the barn. Deaton’s cell went straight to voicemail, and the land line for the house just gave him a recorded message that the number couldn’t be reached. He cautiously circled around to the delivery entrance, which was farthest from the retail office and punched in his code for the combination lock on the door. When he opened it, the keypad wasn’t prompting him to enter his code, that changed things.

The security system had a backup generator, and if it was off, it meant it had been deliberately done. Occam's razor for a cop meant if you saw a strange van parked outside a jewelry store and flashlights inside, the most obvious assumption was a robbery in progress. Deaton would have been expecting Stiles to return and would have told him if something had come up that would make him drop security in the middle of the night. Isaac was a big, shiny diamond just sitting in a small town animal shelter. He dialed Chris Argent’s number and the man picked up on the first ring.

“Stiles?”

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “I need you to call the cops, I’m in the barn with the Alphas and someone’s taken down the power. There’s a van parked up near the shelter and people inside. I can’t reach Deaton, but the power’s out at his place too.”

“Is it just an outage?”

“The security system has a backup and it’s off too. I think someone’s here to steal the Omega.”

“Get out of there!” Chris said in a low voice. “I’m coming back for you.”

“Not till I find Deaton. Call the cops, I can’t stay on the phone.” He hung up and tried his dad’s cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message. If his dad saw he’d called this late, he’d call back. He was worried about his boss, but it wasn't the full reason he was in the barn. He put his phone on silent and carefully opened the door that separated the food storage from the main barn.

The emergency lights were on individual batteries, so Stiles had some illumination as he crept through the building. He didn’t hear anything except the sound of the Alphas in their stalls. There were a few sleepy rumbles, but he spoke softly and headed for the office. The Alpha stalls had coded, push-button locks along with the magnetic ones. In the event like this, where the magnetic locks were compromised, and the electric current stopped running through the bars, they were still able to keep them secure.

Stiles approached each stall door, and punched in the code for the locks, one-by-one. He didn’t have a plan yet, but he was preparing for the worst. His screen lit up and he saw Chris’s number. He answered quickly as he took out his keys.

“I called the cops. What’s the combination for the gate?” the hunter asked, and Stiles told him.

“Are you armed?”

“I’m always armed.”

“The Alphas are gonna make a racket if you come in,” He whispered. He looked at the crack under the door to the clinic and saw no flashes of light. The shelter had both high and lower tech doors and at night, they were all secured, so it would take time for anyone breaking in to get through them all if they didn’t have combinations.

“I’m checking the van,” Chris whispered, and it sounded like he was moving quickly. “Stay where you are, and don’t engage them.”

“Check the house if you can, see if Deaton's there. I just need to know if he's with these guys so Dad knows if it's a hostage situation or not.”

Stiles opened the door to the exam room just a crack to peek inside. It was empty and he slipped in, going to the window that looked in on quarantine. The blinds were only closed during procedures since the area was restricted, so Stiles could see that the quarantine rooms were all dark. The intruders would need to take the long route to get to Isaac, and Stiles was closer. He paused to close the blinds, leaving them pointed downward so he could see them if he was close.

“They haven’t made it into quarantine yet.”

“I'll be out in the open if I go to the house, I can't go up there now. Don’t go any farther, Stiles, you’re not helping anyone if you get shot.”

“Oh, good idea.” Stiles put the phone in his shirt pocket so he could still hear the hunter and went to the medical supply cabinet. He opened the door to the quarantine hallway and put a plastic syringe on the floor, to keep it from closing. The emergency lights gave the place an eerie, red glow, but at least he could see where he was going. Isaac was sleeping but woke when Stiles used his key to open the door. “Come here, Isaac.”

The sleepy Were rolled onto his back and yawned; he scratched his balls, lazily and tilted his head at the human. Isaac did not like being woken up and rolled on his other side. “Get your ass over here,” Stiles whispered, and then he heard the muffled sound of Weres waking up; it was likely that the intruders were in the stable, which meant there was only the back corridor door and the one that connected to the other side of quarantine between them and Stiles. He snapped his fingers, impatiently and then grabbed the leash off the wall.

Isaac was on his feet in an instant. He hated the leash and seemed to believe they were beneath him, so he gave Stiles an angry look and let the human take him by the hand. He pushed the Omega into the clinic and shut the door, moving to the window and watching through the blinds.

“Chris, I’m in the clinic with Isaac, they woke the Weres in the South stable.”

“I know, I’m outside.”

“Where are the cops?”

“I don’t know, they should be here by now.”

“I’m calling Jordan Parrish; he lives near here.” He hung up before Argent could protest and scrolled until he got to Parrish’s number. 

“Stiles?” Jordan sounded like he was moving. “I’m on my way there. I just heard dispatch on the radio, something about the bridge being blocked. Are you safe?”

“That’s relative,” he replied. “I don’t know if my boss is with them, I-shit! I see them. They’ve just gotten into quarantine.” He waited as three people with ski masks and headlamps moved into the hallway. “I see three of them and I don’t see Deaton with them, so no hostage unless they have someone at the house. I’ve got Isaac, and Chris Argent is here, he’s armed, and he’s outside so don’t shoot him.”

“What?”

“He gave me a ride back here, I called him when I saw there was a break in, and he called the cops and came back.”

“What’s the code for the gate?” Stiles told the WCO and then hung up.

He called Chris who answered, sounding angry.

“Where are you?”

“Tactically retreating into the Alpha barn,” Stiles replied, pulling Isaac with him. “Parrish should be there in a minute, I told him you’re here. I saw three intruders, and they didn’t have Deaton with them. They were just inside the quarantine hallway.”

“Get someplace-” he stopped talking and Stiles heard him move the phone away from his mouth. He guessed that Parrish had arrived. The clinic had double doors in order to allow someone to be carried or wheeled in on a stretcher. Stiles took off his belt and looped it twice around the handles and pulled the leather through the buckle. He managed to get it secured, and headed with Isaac through the dark barn, looking for a hiding spot. He let out a yelp when he saw a pair of red eyes peering at him from the office doorway.

“Jesus Fuck!” he wheezed as Peter stepped out, eating a ginger snap. Even in the darkness, the human could see the smug expression on the Alpha’s face. _Who’s got the cookies now?_ Weres had priorities when it came to the inequality of cookie distribution. “I should’ve known better than to leave you unlocked.” Three more pairs of red eyes gleamed back at him from the proper stalls and he relaxed. He heard raised voices then, and a loud banging sound coming from the clinic door. Peter growled and the other Alphas raised their voices in challenge. They could smell Stiles’s fear, and now they could small strangers.

“Stiles?”

“I barricaded the doors that go from the clinic to the barn.” He heard a popping sound and then saw a flash at the door. “They’re shooting through the locks!”

“Get out of there!” Chris shouted. And the sound of gunfire erupted from the phone and from outside. He shoved the phone into his pocket again and called to Peter, who was charging at the door.

“Peter! Get back!”

The Alpha’s body jerked, and Stiles yelled out as bullets struck the Were. He went down, and in the darkness, the human lost sight of him. Isaac was whimpering and Stiles shoved him into the milking room and locked the door. All of the Alphas were angry now. The three men with flashlights came through the door and spread out. He tucked himself back into the office, waited and listened. Ennis was first, lunging at the intruders, then Boyd growled, and finally Derek waited until the last moment before letting out a vicious sound and Stiles heard the impact on the bars and a scream. Two guns fired and Derek yelped.

“Sampson?”

“He got me in the shoulder, Ah! I think he hit an artery.”

“Just get to the van and head through the woods, the bridge won’t keep them away for long.”

“Where’s the vet?”

“It can’t be him he’s cuffed. Someone else is here.”

Stiles listened to the men argue and waited for his chance. Isaac chose that moment to whine and scratch at the door.

“Could be a trap.”

“Could be the Omega. Go get the van, back it down here. We need to go, now.” Stiles crouched under the desk as they passed the office and he watched the flashlight beam go over his head. They were in too much of a hurry to look for him now. One of them opened the door and heard a familiar voice.

“Get on the ground!”

Stiles felt his whole body tense up and freeze when the next thing he heard were shots fired. And people running. He couldn’t move for a second, and then Chris Argent’s voice came through. “Stiles?” he shouted, and the human stood up.

“Here!” he went to the doorway. And followed Chris who was walking forward with a flashlight and a pistol.

“Get out!” the older man snapped.

“The stalls are unlocked, if they get out, they’ll eat you if I’m not here.”

“Argent?” Parrish’s voice came from the other side of the barn where Stiles had come in.

“One down by the door, two more inside. Stiles is with me.”

“They’re headed towards you, Parrish,” Stiles shouted.

“Stop where you are and get down on the ground!”

They heard a shot and glass breaking and then shouts and feet running back towards them. The hair on the back of Stiles’s neck rose again. As he stayed behind Chris, he noticed something was different.

“Shit!” he swore under his breath.

“What?”

“Duke’s gone.” He hadn’t heard the Were growling when the men passed, and he could be anywhere at that point.

“Isn’t he the blind one?”

“Not when he shifts, and we don’t collar him.”

“Fuck!”

“Peter is out too, but he and Derek are hurt.”

“We’re in here with an injured Alpha Were and an uninjured Alpha Were?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles said. “Parrish, Peter and Duke are loose. Peter’s been shot.”

“Where are they?”

“No idea. Peter should be healed by now, so he’s probably pissed. Just stay by the door.” He though about it for a second. “You know what? Just back out and shut the doors. There’s only one window and two doors. We can let them wait with two apex predators in the dark if they don’t want to give themselves-” A shriek interrupted Stiles and then a second one, which cut off with a gurgling sound.

“That’s three,” Chris said and moved forward with his flashlight ready. “Parrish, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m-Ugh!” he made a sound of disgust. “Found one.”

Stiles heard the growl and he and Chris stopped moving.

“Parish, get out.”

“Yup.”

Chris and Stiles shut the door behind them, and Stiles tripped over a dead man on the ground. They ran around the corner of the barn and Parrish was standing outside the other door, with his gun trained on the window. With a loud hum, the lights came back on, and all three men looked in the window at Peter who held a pistol clutched in a bloody hand…in _his_ hand. He looked at the three men and promptly dove through the window. Stiles knocked Argent out of the way as the Were rolled gracefully into a crouch before standing up and looking at them.

“Don’t shoot him,” Stiles begged. “He’s not after us.” The Were looked at Stiles and then down at Argent.

“Peter,” the older man said, getting to his feet. “Easy, boy.”

There was startled recognition on Peter’s face, and his lip curled as he looked between his handler and the hunter. Parrish was standing but his weapon was holstered. He looked oddly calm as Peter backed towards him. When the Were turned and sniffed the officer, he recoiled slightly and then in a blur, went towards the woods.

“Open the gates,” Chris said.

“I can hear sirens,” Parrish added.

“I’ll call a team-” Chris said but Stiles put his hand on the man’s arm.

“We need to find Duke, Deaton, and make sure there’s no one else here.”

“I’m here, Stiles.” Deaton came around the corner of the barn. He looked like he had a dark spot over his eye. “I just got free, and I turned the power on manually from the house.” He joined the men and squeezed Stiles’s arm. “I came through the building, it’s empty. Just find the Weres.”

“Peter killed two humans,” Stiles said, looking at Deaton. “They’ll shoot him.”

“Not if I find him first.” Chris was running down to the side gate, and Parrish was examining the hand that Peter had dropped on the ground. It was still clutching the pistol.

“I’ll go with Chris,” Deaton said. “I’ve got some tranquilizer cartridges.”

“I’ll go in with Stiles, and find Duke,” Parrish said, looking up from the hand that Peter had left on the ground. It was still clutching the pistol. They closed the door to the supply room once they were inside, leaving the window inaccessible to any Weres. The mountain ash kept them in as long as the doors’ contact points were touching. Stiles had left it open because it was heavy, and he wanted to be able to make a quick exit. It would be his fault if Peter got shot.

Parrish turned on the light and Stiles shut his lips tight and didn’t look at what Peter had left behind. Parrish put his hand on Stiles shoulder and held up a finger. He pointed to his ear and then towards the corner of the barn where the milking room was. Now that his heart wasn’t about to burst from his chest, Stiles could hear panting and whining along with some low growls.

“Son of a bitch!” Stiles let Parrish go first so he could check around corners, but they reached the milking room and Stiles turned the knob, opening the door quickly and stepping back so Parrish could clear it.

“Did you put them in there together?”

“No, they can’t open these doors. He was in there waiting, and I put Isaac in there. I thought it was empty.”

“He’s gotten creative with the small space.” Parrish took a moment to admire the older Were’s form in the narrow room. “It’s a truly stunning display of determination, ingenuity and skill.”

Isaac was hanging upside-down by his hips from Duke’s hands in a standing sixty-nine. Isaac’s curly hair obscured their view of the Alpha’s junk, but the sucking sounds he made were enough of a clue to what he was doing. The Alpha looked up from the plundering of his Omega’s hole and snorted at them. He didn’t growl, it would have been like brandishing a gun at preschoolers. They were no threat to him, and he knew it.

“Break it up, guys,” Stiles snapped while Parrish went to check on Derek. “How’s he look?”

“Pissed.”

“That’s how he always looks. Is he bleeding?”

“Looks like he took a few to the chest, only one still looks wet.” With the power back on, the magnetic locks re-engaged so he didn’t need to worry about them getting out again. “Get him a wet rag, he likes to be clean.” He turned his attention back to the milking room. “Hurry it up or I’m getting the hose.” The Were probably didn’t understand anything but the word ‘Hose’. And lifted his head again. He signed heavily and pulled Isaac off his dick with a pop, stood him upright, and nuzzled his hair. The Omega whined and tried to push his ass at the Alpha.

“Need help?”

“Not yet.” Stiles walked to Duke’s stall and opened the door. “Come on, Duke. I promise you can do the new style of collection on him tomorrow.” He managed to keep Isaac with him by reaching out and gently tugging the Omega’s hard dick. Duke rumbled his complaint as he walked back in his open stall door and tugged it to swing shut behind him. The current came back on and the magnetic lock engaged.

“Let me put Isaac back and then we’ll go find Peter.”

Parrish and Stiles hurried to get Isaac back who clung to the WCO and tried to rub himself off on his pant leg. The officer slapped him smartly on the rump, which made Isaac try to present, and allowed Stiles to push him back into his room. He was kind enough to stick one of Isaac’s heat aids on the wall before closing him in.

They got outside and Deaton met Stiles with a flashlight and the second tranquilizer pistol. The emergency vehicles were arriving, and Parrish stayed behind to give a statement until they returned with Peter. Chris, Deaton and Stiles were all licensed Were handlers, and Scott, Allison and Lydia would likely be on their way soon. Stiles let Deaton direct him to the west, and he ran towards the far fence.

Chris was a professional tracker Deaton knew every inch of the property and also knew how to track Weres. Stiles was less effective at tracking but had the best rapport with Peter. He made no effort to be quiet, since he had no hope of sneaking up on the Alpha, and it was in his best interests that any police officers who went into the woods could easily identify him as human.

“Peter!” He called out to the Were as he jogged along. “Quit pissing on trees and come out here.” He felt his phone vibrate and saw his father was calling. “I’m answering a call from my dad, but I’m not done, yet!” He looked around and the surrounding acreage. He couldn’t see anything that wasn’t directly in the beam of his flashlight, so he switched it off while he answered his phone. “Hi, Dad.”

“Jesus, Kid.” John Stilinski’s voice was ninety-percent relief, and ten percent angry. “What the Hell happened here?”

“Check the van,” Stiles replied. “Start with the bodies and see if you can find out where they’re from.” He paused. “And get someone on Curran’s farm in Carson City.”

“I’m a County Sheriff in California,” he snarled.

“They had Nevada plates and the-”

“Enough!” John snapped. “Get your ass back here and start explaining what you did, this time!” Stiles heard the anger and frustration but felt a pang of hurt. “Now, Stiles.”

“Sorry, Sheriff.” His voice got deeper and softer. “We have an Alpha Were out here that we need secured. He’s the priority, and I suggest you keep your people in pairs and close to the building until we get eyes on him.” He took a breath. “Don’t call me again till I get back there, you’ll make me lose focus.” He hung up and put the phone in his pocket, he took a few deep breaths and let his eyes re-adjust to the dark. It wasn’t the first time a Were had gotten loose, it wasn’t even the first time Peter had, but he’d just been shot and then killed two people. His mental state was touchy, and Stiles really hoped Parrish was keeping the cops away.

The grounds were familiar because Stiles regularly checked the fence line. He knew the path and although he was still in danger of tripping as he jogged, he thought the Alpha’s pale skin would stand out more. Unless he was hiding. Or hunting. He stopped and listened and heard the wind through the trees since he was farther away from the stable now and couldn’t hear the police radios. He knew Peter, Peter might play with Chris a little, but he’d avoid Deaton. He didn’t dislike the vet, it’s just that Deaton was patient and…no fun.

Stiles played with the Were. He got mad at him, he laughed at him, he gave him cookies. Stiles was like his work-wife, and he probably wouldn’t take it very well if he knew the human Omega was fucking another Alpha. Stiles heard the growl just as his ass clenched with the realization that he’d been very recently fucked by an Alpha. So recently, in fact, that he’d probably still be dripping with come.

The growl came from Stiles’s left, and two red eyed glowed at him. He sighed and pushed away the tiny prickle of fear.

“You okay, Petey?” He took out his phone but heard the growl go deeper. “You want to be groomed?” His screen lit up with a call from Chris. He answered it but kept his eyes on Peter. “Got eyes on him.”

“Where are you?” Chris asked.

“Not too far from the fence. Just head west, you’ll probably hear the shouting and cursing eventually.” He chuckled and heard Chris laugh too. That made Peter snarl, and Chris stopped laughing. “I think he might be jealous of you.”

“It’s just us out here,” Chris said. “Deaton started to get woozy, he’s got a bump on the noggin, and Parrish is trying to keep your father from storming out here with guns blazing.” He paused and Peter stopped his low-level growl. “I heard him on the phone, he’s upset and worried.” He stopped when Peter’s growl rose in pitch and volume.

“He’s used to me being the reason bad things happen.”

“You didn’t invite those guys to break into the shelter with guns. They could’ve killed your boss, and you.”

“If they’d had the right rounds, they’d have killed Peter and Derek too.” Stiles moved closer to Peter and he could see the Were’s pale skin, now. He hadn’t bothered to take out the tranquilizer pistol. Peter was too crafty and quicker on the draw than any human. He also didn’t hold out a hand for him to sniff, it wasn’t how they rolled. Stiles knew what Peter was capable of, but Peter also knew that Stiles trusted him – to a certain extent- and if he acted like he was being cautious, he’d run away. “Sure is getting cold out here,” he said, turning his back to Peter and sitting down on a rock.

“Maybe I can warm you up later.” Chris gave him the sex voice and he got tingly, they both ignored Peter’s growl. “You’ve never seen the shower in the master bathroom,” he said. “It’s huge, and it can fit two people.” The growl grew louder as Chris’s voice made sweet love to the Omega, right in front of the Alpha Were. “It’s the perfect shower for fucking,”

“Scott told me the water pressure’s amazing.” There was silence on the other end and Stiles laughed out loud. “Never mind.” His back didn’t feel the cool breeze any longer and he sighed, leaning back a little until he bumped the warm chest. “Oh, Buddy you’re like a space heater.” He dropped his head back on Peter’s shoulder, leaving his neck bared in the ultimate sign of trust. He rubbed his arm with his free hand. And then brought it up and around to the back of Peter’s head. The Were’s hair was short, but his beard rubbed against Stiles’s neck as the Alpha took a deep sniff.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re just sitting here, and relaxing. Do you have me on GPS?”

“I’m about fifteen to twenty away, I’m trying to be quiet.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna set the phone down here so I can give my big guy here some attention. He’s had a rough night.” He set the phone down carefully and reached both hands up only for Peter to smack the phone off into the bushes with a grunt. “You are such a bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have a rough beginning and a gentle ending to the chapter. We'll pick up next time right where this ends with jealous Peter.


	9. Work wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles realizes he's been underestimating Peter.

Peter placed his hands on Stiles’s shoulders, and he realized it was one of the first times he’d let the Were touch him like this. The humans remained cautious at all times, and the Weres had strength enough that they didn’t need their claws to tear someone apart. Peter squeezed gently and for a moment Stiles felt like Peter was so very human. His grip went to the back of Stiles’s neck and he squeezed.

“You’re not trying to put the moves on me, are you?” They weren’t supposed to let the Weres bond with them like mates, even with the milking, they were kept clinical; a necessary thing. It wasn’t personal. It was difficult to push them away, however, because the creatures needed to feel like someone _cared_ for them. And Stiles hadn’t ever been that good of a faker when it came to his emotions. He moved to stand, catching Peter’s other hand in his to tug him along, but the hands tightened on his neck and shoulder, and he felt the tiniest pinpricks at the tip of each finger. “You got your collar off, you little shit.”

Peter pushed Stiles off the rock, and he tumbled forward onto his knee. “You did it,” he said, turning around. “You figured it out when I changed collars after you slashed up Ennis. Now you’ve lured me close so you could break my phone.” He was amazed at the Were, but a big shot of adrenaline got his blood pumping as he wondered why. “You were totally calm; this isn’t from the killing.” The Were was close enough now that Stiles could see him; shoulders hunched and knees bent. “This is why you ran off.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I didn’t even plan to-” He patted his pocket but found the injector missing. “You picked my pocket!” He was angry because he felt stupid and betrayed. “I can’t believe I trusted you, Peter.”

The Were moved forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles’s middle, trapping his arms by his sides. The first squeeze stole his breath and he smelled the blood on Peter’s breath. He always knew there was a chance he’d be unable to take enough precautions and he’d end up injured or killed. This is what his father had meant when he’d wanted Stiles to return. He didn’t blame the Omega for the break-in, or for the men being killed, not directly anyway. No one in their right mind would chase Peter into the woods without decades of training. Even Deaton had turned back when his injury meant he wouldn’t be at his best. But not Stiles, because he thought of Peter as _his_. But he’d had it backwards.

Stiles belonged to Peter. Defending him from Ennis, the preening, the games, and the ways he manipulated Stiles into giving just that extra bit of himself was Peter’s version of courtship. He’d been testing the Omega, seeing if the human could be trusted to stick around for the long haul, or if he’d run away the first time Peter lashed out at him. He considered Stiles a contender for mate, but then Stiles went and did something unthinkable. He came ‘home’ smelling like another Alpha. It would have been like a neon sign to a Were’s nose. He’d know that Stiles had enjoyed it too. Argent’s cum in his ass, and his own crusted in his underwear was like being caught in a torrid embrace.

“I don’t suppose I can warn Chris,” he mumbled as Peter carried him through the trees. Peter might simply try to kill Chris, or he could kill Stiles and _then_ kill Chris. Either way, it would be bad for the hunter. The man could handle himself, but Peter was a whole different level, and now he had a grudge. But maybe Stiles could turn it around. He was dropped onto the ground, but the landing wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He could have dropped him off the top of a tree. Stiles let his body go limp as he caught his breath and tried to get his bearings. Peter was pacing back and forth in front of him, looking agitated. “Come here,” Stiles said, and patted the ground between his open legs. “Let me groom you.”

Peter’s eyes flashed red and Stiles had a face full of werewolf in the next heartbeat. He pushed Stiles backwards and growled low and quiet. He lowered his nose and sniffed at Stiles’s mouth. He gripped the human by the shoulders and started to lick. Not the inside of his mouth - Stiles wasn’t an equal – but outside, where there might have been traces of Argent’s fluids; he was cleaning off the stink of the other Alpha. Stiles endured the tongue-bathing without complaint and rubbed at the Were’s chest the way he did when he milked him. He ran his nails over Peter’s scalp, making him purr and softening his tongue. Once he had Stiles’s supplication, he moved on to gentler caresses. His nails were blunt again and he made a placating rumble. _See, I can be nice._ He nuzzled and licked along Stiles’s neck and collarbone before going back up to his face.

Peter sniffed his human’s eyes and licked gently at the tears before stretching out, full-length on top of him. He rubbed Stiles’s arms and chest, like the Omega did to him. _I can take care of you, too._ He obviously liked being the one doing the touching and rolled him onto his side to nuzzle and lick at the back of his neck. He nibbled and licked more deeply at a few spots, places Stiles remembered Chris touching and was relieved that they hadn’t removed much clothing. Eventually he pawed at the back of Stiles’s shirt and flipped him back over, fascinated by the Omega’s skin.

Stiles heard the disgusted snort when Peter found the nipple that Chris had sucked.

“Here we go,” he said, softly, but Peter placed a hand over his mouth to shush him as he started removing Chris’s scent and replacing it with his own. Instead of fighting, he just rubbed the Alpha’s head and shoulders, wondering how women managed to seem enthusiastic when they just weren’t in the mood. He hoped Chris would find them and shoot Peter with a tranquilizer, he also hoped that Chris would stay away and not antagonize the Were any further. The sniffing and licking moved down his chest and he nuzzled the Omega’s belly. He gave it a quick tap with one finger- _All in good time_ , and Stiles felt his fingers and feet grow cold.

Suppressants meant that humans couldn’t detect heat pheromones, and that Stiles wouldn’t ovulate, but Weres had senses on another level, and he smelled like he’d been mounted by an Alpha. Okay, so technically he _had_ been mounted by a virile Alpha, and since he wasn’t ovulating, he wouldn’t smell pregnant and…

“Argent!” Stiles yelled before Peter slapped a hand over his mouth so hard it struck Stiles’s head against the rock he’d been rolled onto. Pain lanced through his skull and he saw stars. He moaned and tried to roll off the hard surface. He was dizzy and he couldn’t see; he struck out blindly and his fists hit a warm, thickly muscled chest which did absolutely nothing. The warm body smothered him, and rolled him onto his front, a face nosed at his hair and poked at the spot on his head that felt thick and hot and he pushed himself to his hands and knees and tried to swat at him with shaking hands. “No, Peter!”

Stiles’s head hurt with the effort of shouting, and he thought the floor of the enclosed exercise ring was harder than usual, and it was too dark, and then his mind started to clear, and he felt the pine needles under his fingers. Yes! He was outdoors. He felt a hand pawing at his back and ignored it as he tried to crawl away. He needed to call someone. He needed a new phone! A hand gripped his hip and he heard a soft growl. He started to pull away and the growl got louder. The hand became sharper and Stiles’s lower brain functions stopped all movement.

The growl ended in a distressed whine and the hand tried to reach up to his head again, but he flinched away. A huff near his lower back, where the cool air started to feel uncomfortable, moved to a face poking him in the ass. “Knock it off,” he snapped, impatient and angry with a throbbing head. He kicked out but his ankle was yanked with a snarl and he was dragged off his hands and landed on his face. Clawed hands grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards, but he scrabbled for a tree root and held on.

If Stiles hadn’t bought Isaac and himself an extra minute or two by using his belt to seal the clinic doors, he might’ve had better luck with keeping his pants on. Without the belt, his narrow hips were no impediment to Peter’s grip, and they slid down over his ass, taking his underwear with them. He let go and groped for the front of his pants, trying to protect his junk, but there was now a nose pushing between his cheeks and a clawed thumb digging into him and holding him open. The claw stopped his movements, again. It was far too close to his testicles for him to risk. He let himself be rolled onto his belly and let the warm body cover his lower half like a blanket.

Humiliation at the thought of anyone else seeing him like this made stiles pray that Peter would just mount him and get it over with. He could hande it, and no one would know. Could he really blame the Were? Peter got jerked off by Stiles at least once a week and was the majority of his physical contact outside of an exercise enclosure. Could he blame a social creature for being so lonely he’d confused a human for a potential mate?

Peter began to lick, and Stiles began to cry. Not a lot, just a few tears as he was held down, held open, and his ass and balls just belonged to someone else for a while. Did he deserve anything less? He’d considered himself humane and kind. He’d known that most of the Weres would have been happier in the wild, but he couldn’t change the circumstances of their capture, so he’d thought he was making life as pleasant as possible for them. He was woozy from the bump on his head, and tried to stay focused, but he didn’t want to think about what was happening. The tongue poked at his hole and a pair of now-clawless thumbs pressed down and in. “Please don’t do this,” he begged.

Stiles wished he wasn’t an Omega for the first time since he was a teenager when his biologically different body opened and his slick came up along with whatever remnants of Chris Argent were left in him. The combination made Peter angry and eager and Stiles almost laughed when he realized the Were was growling at his hole for having another Alpha’s spunk in it. It was surreal, but he did start to laugh, and that distracted Peter. He butted his head at Stiles and the Omega yanked up his pants. He wrapped his arms around the Were and hugged him, hoping the contact would give the beast the closeness he craved.

“Help me, Peter.” He sat up and held his head, groaning in discomfort. “Owie.”

Peter was all concern, whimpering and pawing at his head. He licked at a stinging patch, which meant there was blood, and then suddenly growled and shoved Stiles behind him.

“You okay, Stiles?” Argent was above them, where Peter couldn’t smell him until now. He was on a big outcropping of rock and his gun was trained down on Peter.

“Bump on the head, but he got his collar off so he can shift.” He saw Peter moving around and then he was a blur, knocking the rifle out of Argent’s hands and retreating to stand between Stiles and the hunter. “He’s in a funny mood,” Stiles said, feeling dizzy again. “He thinks I’m his mate and uh…you might have made him jealous.” Chris did the opposite of the cautious thing and jumped down to the ground in front of them. His landing was far too graceful for a man who had a few grays in his pubes – not that Stiles minded – and he stepped close to the Were.

“I know exactly what he’s thinking,” he said. “Peter!” he barked at the Were who flinched. “Peter.” He said again, more quietly and the Were backed up a step, like he was uncertain.

“No collar,” he mumbled. “No gun.” But Chris wasn’t paying him any attention. His blue eyes were on the Were, and he took one more step with his arms at his sides and his shoulders squared. Then he spoke again.

“Peter Hale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun! Dun! Dun!


	10. Breakfast, books, and revelations

Careful isn’t the word Lydia would use to describe herself, she preferred _mindful_ , or at least she had before it returned to popular vernacular and began to edge into over-use. It wasn’t as bad as _triggered!_ Or _Empowered!_ As those words had little use except ironically. If someone in casual conversation said they were triggered by something, people frequently rolled their eyes. It had been a helpful way to describe how a person could be pushed into an emotional state by a word, or phrase, or action without warning, but it had turned into a threat. A stranger could be talking with someone and a passerby felt _empowered_ to interrupt them and tell them how their words are _triggering_ them. Even if they didn’t confront the stranger, they’d at least write about it, and tell people to be more _mindful_ of their conversations.

Lydia knew that there were times and places for those warnings, but she also felt like it was a way to hide the hate that people liked to spread without seeming hateful. _Well, bless your little heart._ She was mindful of her words and actions, and kept her mouth shut more often than not these days. You never knew who was listening.

~

The apartment building was a little dilapidated, but it was in a neighborhood that should start gentrifying in the next six months by Lydia’s calculations, and she was very good at math. She took a rideshare and used a key to unlock the front door, she saw that yesterday’s mail remained in the box for apartment 4C and picked it up. She walked up the narrow stairs and made a note to speak with her contractor about making it handicapped accessible. Only half of the apartments in the building were occupied, but it didn’t bother her. She’d been renovating them as tenants died or moved into retirement communities.

4C had chipped paint on its door and the peep hole lens was missing. Duct tape covered it from the inside, now, but that would change. Lydia put her key in the door and paused to knock before turning the key and opening the door. It had two-bedrooms, and although it couldn’t be called spacious, it was far nicer on the inside than the rest of the building. She had the mail and a sack of groceries, which she placed on the countertop in the eat-in kitchen. A talk show about people taking lie-detector tests was on the television, and a bundle of blankets sighed heavily on the couch.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Okay.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause, “I could eat.” Lydia smiled and took out some fresh fruit, a loaf of bread, and a jar of peanut butter. “Thanks.” The blankets moved and the young man occupying them used the remote to shut off the television. He hovered at first, but then sat down on a stool at the edge of the counter.

“PB&J or do you want me to fry up some corned beef hash?”

“Why don’t you let me make you something?” His expression was uncertain, and he stood up. “I’ve been reading the cookbook.”

“What do you want to make?”

“PB&J? Or how about corned beef hash…with scrambled eggs?”

“Whichever you’d like to eat.” She kept the smug look off her face. She knew he wanted the hash, because he’d been obsessed with it ever since she’d made it for him, but it took time, and it was _harder._

“I’m going to fry you up some corned beef hash,” he said, lifting his chin and looking defiant. “And you’re …gonna sit there and look pretty.” He struggled with casual speech sometimes, and it would be a little while before it felt natural. He covered it with a touch of overconfidence.

“Sounds good.”

The eggs were overcooked, but the hash was perfect. She sat beside him and he made her a cup of coffee while she read the paper. He’d already been through it, and he talked about the articles he’d read.

“Could we get some books?”

“Yes. It’s early, can we try to bookstore down the street?” She looked at him and his blue eyes looked away from her. “We don’t have to, if you’re not up for it.”

“No, it’s just that the one closer to the mall has a better selection.” He tried to hide how happy her smile of approval made him.

“You got it,” she said. She picked up the mail and went through it with him. She wrote out paper checks for the utilities and he addressed the envelopes and got the stamps. Online bill pay could have been easier, but he liked walking to the mailbox.

The bookstore was quiet on Wednesday mornings, so Lydia hung out in the magazine section and waited. She was contemplating a second cup of coffee when she heard a voice off to her left.

“Lydia?”

The redhead took a mindful second before she turned and smiled at Jordan Parrish. He looked sweet and earnest with his wide smile, as he walked towards her, holding a book on plumbing. He wore jeans and boots with a flannel and looked like he was about to go chop some wood.

“Good morning,” she replied. “You look ready to wrestle bears.”

“You look beautiful, as always.” He had a hint of color in his cheeks, like he was embarrassed, but he didn’t take it back. He’d been practicing.

“Thanks, bear-wrestling suits you, as well. Are you off today?”

“Fixing my deck stairs,” he said. “My landlady’s really old and her last contractor took her for a ride. I do most of the repairs for her now.”

“You rent the bungalow from Mrs. Aslam, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think the plumbing’s been updated since it was built in nineteen hundred.” He rubbed the back of his head. “How’s Stiles feeling, by the way. I haven’t seen him this week.”

“Tired, mostly. Deaton made him take the week off, but I think he wanted Stiles to have a few mental health days before he came back.”

Jordan was about to say something when he got distracted and looked past Lydia. He paused and then smiled again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you if you’re here with someone,” he said, ducking his chin.

“Oh, this is a friend of mine, we’re…shopping for books.” She felt her own cheeks blush as she saw the glower on the sharply boned face behind her. The WCO held out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Jordan.”

“This is a friend of mine from out of town. I’m showing him around. Jordan, this is Jackson.”

Jackson managed to shake Jordan’s hand and nod his head.

“Maybe I’ll see you on Friday,” Jordan said, smiling again. “I’ll be over at the shelter helping Deaton with the security installation.”

“That’s really sweet of you. We appreciate it.”

“Yeah, we do.” Jackson put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.

“Well, I’ve got to go buy this and read it before my bathroom floods,” he said heading over to the registers with his book on plumbing. Lydia turned and gave Jackson a _Look._

“I know that’s not good,” he said, glancing at her face.

“That’s because you have an instinct for survival.”

Once they’d left the bookstore, Jackson carried his books out to the sidewalk. His shoulders were looser, and he seemed more relaxed. 

“What did I do wrong?” he asked as they waited for their ride.

“It was perfect,” Lydia said, sourly. “You acted like a jealous douchebag who hates being stuck in the friendzone.” She sighed. “You’ve never been more convincing.”

“So, I should go with that?”

“Yes, but if you wreck my chances with Jordan, I’ll skin you and wear you as a coat.”

“You love me too much,” he said. “Thank you for the books.” She turned and smiled at him, unable to stay mad for long. Jackson ran a hand down his chest and gave her a smile. “I’d make a gorgeous coat, though.”

~

Stiles sat on his loveseat with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his steepled fingers. He stared at the blank television screen and when he finally moved, he found his legs had stiffened. His stomach growled and he looked at the clock. He’d been sitting and staring at nothing for two hours. He took a quick shower and got dressed before walking a few blocks past the huge, overpriced natural foods chain store and went into the Mexican grocery/bakery farther down. His Spanish was limited, but it had improved since he’d started getting his lunches there. He crossed the street to the park and sat on a bench with his empanadas and lime soda.

Stiles caught himself reaching for his phone and frowned. He really couldn’t put off getting a new phone any longer, his dad needed to be able to reach him some way other than email. He threw away his trash and recycled the bottle, dusted off his hands and walked to the electronics store. He’d ordered an old, refurbished phone that was compatible with his SIM card, and it had been there since Monday, but he’d made the excuse to Lydia and his dad that he wasn’t going to be leaving the apartment so he could just use his email till the phone came in. Stiles turned on the phone and put it in his pocket for the walk back to his apartment. It vibrated a lot and he smirked to himself that he should’ve put it in his other pocket to make the walk more entertaining, and then was hit by an uncomfortable surge of guilt and embarrassment.

Stiles walked into his building and up the stairs and slowed when he saw a slender woman leaning against the wall across from his door. She was tall for a woman, maybe only an inch or two shorter than him, and while he couldn’t see her face, he recognized her. She was looking at her phone and didn’t bother to look at him when he approached. He sighed and put his key in his door and opened it, quickly.

“Hey, there,” a husky voice said, behind him.

“Hi, Kate.” He shut the door, firmly, and locked the deadbolt, because he wasn’t interested in any Argents, today. Her colossal ego might not allow her to knock after a very direct rejection, but he had absolutely not intention of talking to her. He went to the loveseat and opened his phone. He had a dozen texts from the last few days, but most were from before he’d made a post on social media about breaking his phone. The last few were from Allison, Scott, and his father.

_@llison-Hey, call me when you can._

_Scotty-Dude, WTF? I’m going over and using my emergency key to make sure you’re not in a coma if you don’t call me._

_Scotty-I sent that before I got your email._

_Scotty-Call me._

_Daddio-Dinner Tuesday._

_Daddio-Dinner tonight._

_Daddio-You missed dinner. You said your phone would be in Monday. Emailing me your pulse and respirations do not count as communicating._

Stiles called his father first, wincing at his unsuccessful attempts at avoiding his life. Yesterday’s attempts at avoiding his life were more successful and sat in his freezer, neatly covered with foil. He supposed one of them could have gone to his dad’s yesterday. John picked up on the second ring.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

“It’s me, Dad. I got a new phone?”

“Dad? Who is this? I mean, I used to have a son, but he dropped off the face of the earth a while back. What’s your name, Kid?”

“Very funny,” he replied as he heard a knock at the door. “I have an unwanted visitor, I need to drive off, hang on.” He went to the door, opened it and then looked embarrassed at his father’s stormy expression. “Sorry, Allison’s creepy aunt was lurking around a few minutes ago.”

“She still is,” John said as Kate slithered around the sheriff and posed by his side. Stiles’s father had the best poker face, and he didn’t flinch under the awkward moment. “May I come in, Stiles?”

“Sure, Dad.” The man stepped in and gave his son a quick hug. He took off his fleece jacket and walked away from the door to hang it up, leaving Stiles to deal with Kate, because he also didn’t fight his battles for him. Mostly. “Hi, Kate.” He paused while she fixed a pretty, but brittle smile on her face.

“I’m guessing I surprised you,” she said.

“I’m guessing that was your intention, because I didn’t invite you.” He paused and let the blunt comment dig in. “I’ve met you twice, Kate. I’m not comfortable with you showing up unannounced.” Stiles’s concussion was giving him a surprising amount of clarity. He wasn’t making any excuses or saying he was tired and had a headache, he owed her nothing. “Have a nice day, Kate.” He didn’t slam the door, he just closed it, carefully, and then went to sit on the loveseat. Wordlessly, John reached out with one arm and Stiles leaned towards him, resting his head gingerly against his father’s chest.

Alphas weren’t always easy to reliably identify, especially with so many insecure Betas who liked to try and fit into the Alpha stereotypes. There were common genetic advantages that came with the Alpha gene but having the gene didn’t mean you were always bigger, stronger, faster, healthier…the mix was as varied as Alphas themselves. No single ethnic group had more of them, and they were just as common in females as they were in males, but a lot of them could be picked out if you watched carefully.

John Stilinski was an Alpha who was rarely mistaken for a Beta. He was naturally dominant, and utterly masculine. He carried himself with confidence but no conceit; he had no need to posture, he knew exactly who he was. He was protective, compassionate, inclusive, and approachable. His job put him exactly where he should be; at the head of a pack. He cared for, trusted, taught, and disciplined his deputies. He treated them like his sons and daughters, or brothers and sisters. He led by example and kept his strength in check - not hidden- for when it was needed; the rest of the time, he was gentle with everyone.

“How do you know Kate?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Stiles replied. She’s Allison’s aunt, and I’ve never gotten a good vibe from her.” He didn’t bother to tell his dad that he has a pretty good idea that he knows why Kate is suddenly interested in him.

“What did she want?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He knew he sounded angry and spiteful, so he sighed and started talking. “I think I met her when we were in high school, like at graduation, or something, but I don’t remember ever talking to her till Christmas last year. She was at the Argents’ open house.” The Argents had always thrown a big Christmas to-do since they got famous on television. They had their house professionally decorated and catered for the event and invited important people to it. The county sheriff was important since law enforcement was their biggest source of income, and since the sheriff didn’t date, Stiles had been his plus-one. “I ran into her there, talked with her a bit, and she made a poor impression on me.”

“Did she make a pass at you?”

“Not really, she did this thing where she made a reverse-pass at me.” His father snorted and he went on. “She’s hot, but I don’t really think she stands out. She ticks a lot of the boxes, like being tall and thin with a good hairstyle and dresses well, but she’s unremarkable in spite of this.”

“Ouch.”

“Victoria was charismatic, Allison is magnetic, Lydia is…effortlessly perfect and an unfair comparison,” he said, and waited for his father to stop laughing. “Allison, Victoria, and even Chris all have this quality that draws attention when they speak without trying. Kate just seems like a trouble-maker who’s desperate for attention.”

“You may be right,” John said. “What was the ‘reverse-pass’?” He waited while Stiles turned around to face him.

“Allison and I were hanging out in her room during the party, I was sitting at her desk looking at a book she got for Christmas, and she was on her bed, looking at her phone. I don’t even think we were facing each other, but Kate bursts in like we’re rolling naked in a haystack. She asks what we’re doing in a sly tone, I think she’s joking so I say hi and start chatting. I thought she was drunk because she was doing this really slow walk towards me, with this weird smile on her face.” He stood up and started doing a slinky walk while staring at his father. “Allison asked her something, and she kinda smirks sideways but keep staring at me while she answers.” John chuckled at his son’s effective impersonation. “She’s got this look on her face like there’s some inside joke, except I have no idea what it is.”

“I think she might’ve come on pretty strong when she visited me to arrange a delivery.” John scratched his head. “But hey, can you blame her?” He spread his arms wide.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles said, without hesitation. “Anyway, she complained about her flight, and how some guy came onto her -the nerve- and then about how boring her job was because everything’s so easy for her.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“She’s talking about traveling back and forth to France, and running board meetings over there, and saying stuff like ‘Don’t you hate international flights?’ and ‘Don’t you hate it when you have to try and avoid offending people while speaking another language?’.”

“Maybe she was bitter about Allison getting to be the primary PR rep. There’s a lot of publicity and it’s her name in magazines, not Kate’s.”

“You know, you’re probably right.” Stiles said. “Everything about her screamed ‘I’m insecure and I want validation’, but Allison loves her, so I was being nice and asked about her plans for the coming year. And she gives me this pitying look.” Stiles wrinkles his nose and lowers his voice to a husky wheeze, “Oh, Sweetie. That’s not happening.” His father laughed at his pose with his hands on his hips and his chest and butt stuck out. “I think she thought I was asking her plans for New Year’s Eve, or something. I didn’t even come _close_ to saying anything that should have been mistaken for an invitation, much less asking her for a date.”

“What did you say?” John was laughing and his face was turning red.

“I might’ve said that you taught me respect for my _elders_ , and you’d also told me that when I get stuck in a boring conversation that I should ask the other person if they have any big plans _for the coming year_.” John was doing his doubled-up, silent-from-breathlessness, tomato-faced laughter. It actually looked quite painful, but then he whooped in a big breath and bellowed again. Stiles knew it was more than the comeback; John was getting rid of the tension he’d been holding for several days. Kate Argent had been useful, the vulnerable feeling Stiles had been carrying with him vanished when he was able to exert a little control over his universe by deciding he didn’t have to endure her company.

“I might’ve been afraid every day you worked with those Alphas, that you’d end up dead, but now at least I can take comfort knowing that gun-toting harpy’s gonna make sure I never find your body.” He snorted and laughed again.

“I’m not the only one with a dangerous job, Dad.” He walked away and went to the fridge to take out a beer. He held one up and his dad nodded. He took out an orange soda for himself because he wasn’t supposed to have caffeine _or_ alcohol for a while.

“I know, son.” John looked very serious. “I’ve thought about the reasons I’ve given you each time you’ve been upset that I walk into potentially hazardous situations: I’ve trained for this, I’m armed as well, I’m helping people who can’t protect themselves. And I know you have the same answers for me. You’re aware of the danger, you’ve trained for it, you’ve got tranquilizer guns with you, and they do need your help.”

“He picked my pocket,” Stiles said. He handed his dad the beer and they both sat down, twisting off the caps and taking swigs of their cold beverages. “Peter picked my pocket. He acted like he was mistrustful and got me to approach him in a non-threatening way, took the injector, and broke my phone.”

“That’s diabolical.”

“He thinks I’m his mate, and he got… jealous.”

“You know how I feel about double-standards, and how many times I’ve had to hold myself back from men who tell me that a going to a bar, getting drunk, or a dance, or buying dinner, or a wedding ring, or being in rut, or near someone in heat implies consent. You know that I don’t believe your attraction to men makes _you_ less of one. And I don’t believe that because _you’re_ a man, you’re not entitled to protection from domestic abuse, right?”

“I know, Dad.”

“But, can you really blame him? I mean, you do jerk him off weekly, and the Stilinski charm is pretty irresistible.” He had raised an arm to fend of Stiles pushing him and smacking his arm after a few words. He laughed again and pulled his son into a one-armed hug. “When you tell me about the situations you encounter, and I say stuff like ‘Only you’, I’m never implying there’s anything wrong with who you are. You aren’t an idealist like Scott; I swear McCall would be dead if he didn’t have you to do the thinking for him half the time, and my God, you’ve had some strange things happen in your life, but you’re not cursed, you’re charmed.”

“Charming headache at the moment.”

“Weres are good hunters, and clever tricksters, but they’re not masterminds. Everyone knows that.” He said it carefully. “Everyone _knows_ that they’re not as smart as us because we watch them through zoom lenses, and in zoos. We read someone else’s interpretations of behaviors they see in a limited environment.”

“Like Schenkel’s book on captive wolves, and how it made all kinds of assumptions about pack behavior and dominance. But captive behavior isn’t natural.”

“It’s adaptive behavior.”

“So, Peter got smarter.”

“I think he was already smart. I think people are _capable_ of a lot of things they’ll never do. I think there are a lot of people in jail who committed crimes because of their circumstances. I think a lonely Were with little social contact can spend a lot of time thinking. He’ll draw his own conclusions, but his situation will determine what happens when his conditioning collides with his instincts and then he’s given… an opportunity.”

“If you think that’s wild, you should hear what Duke did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted it to be clear that Jordan's crush isn't one-sided, and that she and Jackson aren't a couple. Sorry for not going back to Peter and Stiles yet, but I frequently withdraw from people when I'm dealing with something big, and I wanted to show that flawed side to him. I also absolutely hated Kate Argent. Good job by Jill Wagner for playing Kate so effectively as a narcissist, she's absolutely unrelenting in her belief that her actions are completely justified because nothing's her fault. Meeting someone like this can be baffling, and I wanted Stiles to have been disgusted by her, and a total mean girl.


	11. Safety belt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a few explanations, but first, some Sheriff introspection.

When the sheriff left, Stiles returned to his musings. Kate was gone, but he was nervous about her reasons for seeking him out. Despite their limited interactions, she’d stuck in his mind as a person to avoid, and her behavior earlier -along with Chris’s warning- had just reinforced that belief. She was a troublemaker, and people who were self-validated by their own actions, were incredibly destructive. He’d consider apologizing if he thought it would help, but he could smell the crazy coming off her, and just couldn’t bring himself to let her control their interactions. With the last of his concussion-induced clarity, he sent a text to Allison.

_To-@llison-I just got my new phone, sorry I haven’t been communicating, that’s on me. I should have just said that I wanted to be alone for a few days instead of avoiding everyone. Your aunt’s visit made me feel really uncomfortable. She’s practically a stranger, but she showed up at my apartment uninvited, and I feel like you could have come to see me yourself. I don’t know, maybe you didn’t tell her what happened, and where I live, and maybe she decided all on her own to wait outside my apartment for me, but I don’t know why she would. I can’t have beer or coffee, but I’m discovering the delights of Mexican soda, so come have one with me. XO_

Stiles felt a pang of guilt when he pressed send. He didn’t like using his friends, but Kate needed to be dealt with, and he didn’t want to get caught in a conversation with her. He’d let Allison or Chris deal with her directly and continue to avoid her. He’d had experience with people sharing his private information and had learned to avoid situations where he could be put on the defensive. He didn’t text Chris because he wasn’t ready to have a conversation with the hunter; that plan went out the window when Argent showed up at his apartment at the same time as his dinner delivery.

“Hi,” the older man said, looking far too hot in jeans and a black t-shirt. _Shit!_

_~_

Sheriff Stilinski drove home after his talk with his son. He felt pretty good about it but had a flicker of guilt for not coming clean with him about everything. He shared Stiles’s opinion about Kate Argent being desperate for validation, he had just been too ashamed to tell his son how he knew.

~December 2018

“Is this where bad delivery drivers beg forgiveness?”

Sheriff Stilinski glanced up from his desk. Kate Argent leaned in his doorway with an apologetic look on her face. She was wearing extremely tight jeans and knee-high boots with a festive holiday sweater. He gave her a smile and stood up as she walked in. He’d met her a few times while dealing with her family’s company. He’d been impressed at her knowledge of the weapons, not because she was a woman, but because she had looked bored during her first few meetings with Chris. She’d eventually seemed to find him more interesting after hearing that he knew Allison well. He’d noticed her flirtations but had assumed she was doing it to flatter him; a lot of people tried to flatter him and get on his good side, but he was always polite.

“No need for that, what happened?” He gestured to the seat across from him and she’d taken it, closing the door behind her.

“Our supplier crapped out on the last leg of the journey. I might still be able to get everything here by Monday, as promised, but I didn’t think it would be professional to not give you a head’s up.”

“What’s the issue?”

“Austria’s having some mechanical problems.”

“When do you think it’ll be solved?”

“Between Monday and Wednesday, but I should be getting a call in the next few hours. I wanted to catch you before you left so I wasn’t bugging you at home.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” he said. “Just let me know when you get the information, I’m always on-duty.”

John had seen the broad smile on Kate’s face when she’d agreed but had chalked it up again to her wanting to charm him. He’d put the interaction and most thoughts about how her ass had looked in the tight jeans until after he’d gotten home. He’d changed into jean and a Henley, intending to wrap a few Christmas presents when she’d knocked on his door.

“I’m so sorry for stopping by without calling,” she said, giving him the same apologetic head-tilt as before. “I should’ve made sure I had your cell before I left.”

“That’s alright, come in.” He opened the door and ran a hand over his hair as the arms dealer walked past him. The festive sweater was gone, replaced by a snug, black shirt he noticed as she took off her coat. She set it town, along with a sleek briefcase on the table.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she said, gesturing to the roll of wrapping paper on the table. “I really do apologize.”

“Just wrapping some gifts, can I get you a drink?” Keeping a good relationship with the Argents was good business, and he wasn’t actually bothered by her company.

“Can I give you a hand?”

Kate had deftly wrapped the gifts and he’d poured her a glass of whiskey when he’d offered her a drink and she’d said she’d take whatever he was having. She drew him into conversation and seemed to drop her sales pitch smiles. That was why he’d dropped his guard. He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, but suddenly he was backed up against the kitchen counter and Kate had a hand down his pants. As amazing as it felt to be touched by someone other than himself, he’d placed his hands on her shoulders and held her back.

John had dated a teacher for almost a year when Stiles had been in college, but she’d moved away for a better position and they’d lost touch. A few dates here and there had broken up the years that followed, but most women his age had kids, families, jobs and were busy, like him, so he’d been single for over two years, and he wasn’t used to someone being this aggressive.

“Is this why you stopped by?” he asked, a little breathless.

“I tend to be direct.” She bit her bottom lip. “It’s been a really stressful year, and I was planning to go out tonight to let off some steam.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “You look a lot better than those plans.” She’d kissed him, deep and dirty, and his hands had settled at her waist. “I broke up with my ex-boyfriend _months_ ago, and I’m not looking for anything serious. I hope that’s okay.” It had been okay. John had thanked the whiskey for not embarrassing himself by coming like a teenager when she’d unzipped his jeans, dropped to her knees and started sucking him. He stiffened up in her mouth and she’d hummed in appreciation before standing up and reaching over to where her jacket was laying across the counter and pulling a condom from the pocket.

John couldn’t help feeling like he was trying to catch up with Kate when she led him to the couch. She’d told him her boots and pants would take too long to remove, and he’d gone along with her suggestion to take her over the arm of the couch. She’d been noisy when he’d pushed inside her, moaning and talking dirty as she demanded he fuck her harder. He’d eventually braced his knees against the side of the couch and yanked her back onto him, which finally seemed to make her happy. He’d felt her tighten around him and she’d screamed as he’d emptied into the condom.

Afterwards, Kate had kissed him and left with a knowing look that had made him look around for a hidden camera. He realized later that she hadn’t mentioned the shipment at all, but he’d been too uncomfortable to call her work number and ask. He hadn’t seen her for a week until she’d come by to deliver the bill. He’d heard her voice, laughing at something Deputy Graeme had said. He’d gotten to his feet and walked out of his office to greet her, but she’d had her back to him. He’d waited for her to finish, but instead of turning to talk to him, she’d walked out the door.

John had felt self-conscious about the interaction and wondered if he’d hurt Kate’s feelings by not calling, but she’d run into him in the supermarket a few days later, all smiles and polite conversation. He’d confirmed that he would be seeing her at the holiday open house and had given her his card-the one with his cell phone number on it. The next night he’d run into her outside of a restaurant where he was picking up some takeout. He’d walked there, and it had started raining, so she’d offered him a ride home. He’d asked her if she wanted to come in for a drink and she’d answered that she had to drive, so could he just fuck her without the drink. She’d ridden him on his couch and left a hickey on his neck that he’d had to hide at work.

John had felt guilty because he hadn’t wanted to date Kate Argent, but he also felt like a bastard for not making the effort. She’d sneered at him when he’d asked her to dinner. _Oh, Sweetie. That’s not happening._ He wanted to defend himself that he was trying to be respectful, but he’d curbed the urge. He still didn’t call her, but she hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. He’d almost forgotten about her until he’d seen her outside Stiles’s apartment.

“It’s been a while, Sheriff,” she’d drawled, but not before he’d caught her tense posture and fisted hands before she’d seen him. His phone rang at that moment, saving him the awkward conversation.

“Good morning, Kate,” he’d replied and answered Stiles’s call. When Stiles had called Kate creepy, he’d felt a flash of protective anger at the woman and hadn’t hesitated before throwing out the casual insult. He hadn’t thought less of her after the sex, but her carefully aimed dismissal of him had brought her down in his esteem. He could handle rejection, but the way she’d looked gleeful and victorious brought him to the same place, albeit more slowly, as his son. They both knew who Kate was, and he hadn’t felt bad about tossing out the insult as he’d walked in. Later he wondered if she’d approached Stiles at the party hoping to make John uncomfortable, and Stiles’s opinion that she’d jumped at the opportunity to reject him seemed more and more plausible.

John picked up his phone and after hesitating, he called Stiles. The call went straight to voicemail, but he hung up instead of leaving one. He made another call, this time to the Beacon Hills Memorial Emergency Department; and he knew people there, so he used the internal line.

“E.D. this is Melissa.”

“Sorry to bother you at work, but I know you don’t usually keep your cell phone on you.”

“It’s not bad right now,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “What can I do for Beacon County’s finest?”

“I just wanted to know if you have time to come by after you get off shift.” He looked at his watch; she worked till seven on Wednesdays. “I know it’s short notice, but if you’re free, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Is it urgent, or can I shower before I come over?”

“Why don’t we say eight, and if it’s not too late, I’ll order burgers from Sam’s.”

“It’s never too late for burgers, see you at eight.”

~

Chris waited while Stiles paid the driver, after the young man left, he stepped out to glance to the right and then to the left.

“She’d not here.”

“Just making sure.”

“May I come in?”

“Okay.”

Chris closed and locked the door like he’d done the last time and watched as Stiles unpacked his Thai food. He watched as the Omega stared at the containers and drummed his fingers on them. Eventually, the unopened containers were placed in the refrigerator and Stiles faced the older man, arms and ankles crossed, as he leaned back against the countertop. He was as far from Chris as he could get in the tiny kitchen, but his posture was effective at broadcasting his desire to increase the distance between them.

“Allison wanted you to know that she didn’t tell Kate to come here.”

“I know. I don’t want you to confront Kate. I’d rather she didn’t have any more of a reason to think we’re spending time together socially.”

“I’m letting Allison handle it.”

“So, do you want to tell me about the Hales?”

~

“Peter Hale.”

Peter tilted his head and dropped his shift, but he still kept himself between the hunter and Stiles. Suddenly a lightbulb flickered on over Stiles’s head; or maybe it was the concussion. He knew that name, and with it came a rush of awareness. There were tiny threads spinning around his head, and they meant something. Something familiar.

“Chris,” Stiles whispered.

“Peter. I need you to remember.” There was a vulnerability in the hunter’s voice. “Hale. Talia Hale. Do you remember Talia?”

Stiles started to shake; it was too much. His rattled mind fought the conclusion that the information was leading to. Chris was just saying whatever came into his head, it was meaningless words. He felt dizzy and staggered back. His movement must’ve distracted the Were because he felt clawed hands grip his upper arms as he lost his balance. Chris must have made his move because Peter made a snarl, but it was a little weak. Stiles could hear it as he slid to the ground. He looked up and saw the flare of Peter’s eyes as he crouched over the Omega.

“Chris.” Stiles reached for the man, willing him to back up and not try to face down the Alpha. He saw Peter snarling at him then. Hovering over him, angry and possessive. Then the impossible happened: Another set of red eyes flickered.

~

“What do you already know?” Chris was keeping his distance.

“Although it gave me a headache, I did some online searching.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Not a goddamned thing.” He frowned. “I can’t drive either, but I got a ride to the library on Monday.” He watched as Chris stayed completely still; he did have a Hell of a poker face. “Nothing.” He chewed his lip. “Apparently they had a fire about fifteen or sixteen years ago, and a bunch of the archives were damaged or lost.”

“Shame.”

“There were a few fires back then.” He looked at the floor and rubbed at a spot with his big toe. “Must’ve been a dry summer.”

“You found something on the fire?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “It’s like it never happened.”

“Then how do you know there was…” He trailed off as Stiles gave him a look. “Your father.”

“Let’s take a ride,” he said. “You drive.” He went to his bedroom and came out with socks and shoes. He’d added a belt and a long-sleeved shirt.

“It’s pretty warm today.” Chris eyes the long sleeves.

“It’s for the brush.”

Stiles buckled himself into the passenger seat of the SUV that still had the orange scent of cleaner. He didn’t laugh or comment. He sent a few texts and emails while they headed towards the county line and Chris gave him the side-eye before Stiles frowned. “You missed the turn.”

“You’re the one giving directions.”

The SUV could only go so far. They had to walk for about a half-mile until Stiles recognized the old road. Plenty of trees had come down, but it was the same place.

“Shouldn’t be far,” he said, glancing back at the hunter. In broad daylight, the black t-shirt and jeans looked a little sinister in the forest, but the man looked comfortable enough.

“Good.” Chris made it clear he was tolerating the trip but wasn’t complicit in the plan. At least he didn’t try to dissuade the Omega.

“There.”

The two men stood in a clearing. There was nothing there to speak of; the ruts in what used to be a driveway were the only obvious signs that anyone used to drive up here. Stiles walked to the far edge of the clearing to an old oak that had big, sturdy branches. “My dad parked over here,” he said. “He didn’t want me to have to look at the front when they brought out the bodies.”

“Jesus,” Chris whispered.

“I was here.” He pointed up to the tree. “Dad wanted me to stay in the car, of course. But I saw this swing. Whoever wanted to erase them covered things up pretty well. They bulldozed the house, filled in the basement where most of the bodies were. Someone even planted a few trees where the house was.” He pointed to a sickly-looking maple. “They even took down the swing, but the tree remembers.” He waited as Chris walked over to him and looked up at the branch where there were two depressions where a rope had been tired for so long that the tree had begun to grow around it. Humping up on either side of the rut left by the rope.

“Stiles,” Chris sounded pained.

“Was it you?” the Omega asked. “Did you burn them?”

“No!” The man’s face was twisted with anguish. “I tried to help them.”

“You erased them? I mean, their paper trail.”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure no one could find them.”

“Who?”

“The survivors.” Stiles frowned and looked thoughtful. Chris spoke haltingly, “I can’t tell you everything, Stiles. There’s too much at stake, and it’s not safe. Not for you.”

“I’m not wrong though,” the Omega said, stubbornly. “They lived like…like me. The Hales. They pretended to be human, right?”

“Some of them _were_ human.”

“You hunt them.” Tears rolled down his face. “You’ve killed them.” He looked up at Chris, who looked anguished and ashamed. “How could you do that?”

“I can’t give you all the answers,” he said. “There are more lives in jeopardy here than you know.” He reached out to Stiles, but the younger man puled away from him. “I’ve been trying to…help.”

“How?”

“I can’t give you the answers you want, Stiles. You’re safer not knowing anything.”

“I hate it when people lie to me and say it’s for my own good.”

“If you found out that there were aliens masquerading as humans, what would you do?”

“I don’t know” he replied. “I mean, how many are we talking about here?” He paused after he said it. “The Hales weren’t the only ones.” He shifted away.

“Why did you bring me out here?”

“Privacy.” He unbuckled his belt. “Your sister’s a piece of work.” He walked over to Chris and the man looked war, but he didn’t turn away when Stiles reached for him.

“On a good day, Kate’s a piece of work. She’s a fucking nightmare the rest of the time. It’s why we sent her overseas.” He hesitated before bending down to catch Stiles’s mouth against his. They kissed with hesitation at first, and Stiles knew that another tear or two had slipped out, and Chris rubbed them away with his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” he said, breaking away. “You should not be in the middle of this.” He bent down and kissed Stiles again, arms going around him tightly, and hands gripping the younger man’s shirt, desperately. His mouth moved down the younger man’s neck, frantic as the Omega’s hands pulled at his own belt.

“Fuck!” Stiles hissed as he gripped Argent’s cock and gave a few quick pulls. The older man groaned and let himself get pushed down on his back. He fumbled to push Stiles’s shirt up, hands running over the Omega’s skin as the younger man pulled off his belt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m so sorry.”

“I believe you,” Stiles said, and snapped the belt around the older man’s wrist.

Chris froze, unable to move as Stiles pulled the belt through the buckle and tightened it. He gasped and sucked in a shuddering breath. His eyes were filled with fear.

“Stiles,” he whispered.

“You hunters use guns, snares, traps and a lot of other things to subdue Weres in the wild.” He pushed Chris’s trembling hands over his head and pressed a hand to his throat. He slipped his fingers against the side of his neck beside his windpipe. “You and my dad act like I’m helpless, and I’ll admit Peter got the drop on me, but I’d had to use my belt on the door.” He clucked his tongue softly. “You think we’d handle these creatures unarmed? Do we look stupid to you?”

“What are you doing?” Chris was sweating.

“A very simple technique we use when there’s an emergency, or we need to move in a hurry. We can put these around their necks, or wrists, and they’re docile as lambs. You know, since Weres can’t _talk_ , I’ve always wondered how it actually feels. Care to enlighten me Chris?”

“Weak,” he said, “and… it’s like going deaf and blind.” He implored Stiles with his eyes. “Please. Please stop.”

“Did you really think I’d have come out here with you, confronted you about a family being murdered and not have a _plan_?” He was angry, but a few tears squeezed out, anyway. “Why did you start fucking me?” he asked. “Was it to get access to the Alphas? Did you want updates on Peter?”

“Already…had access,” he hissed. “I stayed away so he wouldn’t remember.”

“Why?”

“He’s safer with you.”

“You brought him in, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”

“What was he to you?”

“He was my…f-friend.”

“That’s a lie. Even if I wasn’t taking your pulse.” The Omega stared down into the hunter’s eyes. “How many have you killed?”

“Over a hundred.”

“No hesitation there, what’s more shameful to you?”

“I-we were lovers. A long time ago. He was my friend.”

“Who killed the Hales?”

“I-I don’t…”

“Did you ever plan to hurt me, or kill me?”

“No.”

Stiles made a sound of disgust, snapped the belt off Chris’s wrists. He got up and stalked back towards the oak tree. He made it a few steps before he was pinned to the ground. He’d dropped the belt, and Chris kicked it away, pulling his wrists behind his back, and holding them like cuffs. He crouched over Stiles who didn’t bother to struggle.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Chris was straddling his hips. “You definitely managed to make me drop my guard.”

“I work with Alpha Weres! Feral ones! I don’t blink, and I don’t fucking bluff.” He pressed his head into the ground and pushed his ass up against Chris. “Looks like I’m not the only one who gets danger boners!” He laughed and then coughed as he inhaled dust. It ruined the effect a little. “What are you gonna do, Chris?”

The pressure disappeared, and Stiles got up. Chris was fixing his own clothes, facing away from the human. The Alpha glared at the belt and started to walk back the way they’d come. Stiles grabbed the belt and coiled it up, stuffing it in his back pocket.

“I’m taking you home.”

They rode in silence for the trip, but Chris’s jaw was clenched tightly. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was in anger or frustration. When they pulled into the parking lot, Stiles pushed open the door and walked into the building. It wasn’t until he was at his apartment door that he noticed the hunter -the Were- was behind him. He opened his door and the man followed him in, locking it behind them. He looked upset. Not angry, just upset.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed.”

“For what?” He took a soda out of the fridge and offered one to Chris who blinked in surprise and accepted it. “I’m asking because there’s a huge list of shit you should be sorry for, I’m just clarifying which of your colossally fucked up decisions you’re apologizing for right now.”

“For getting involved with you. If I’d had any idea you might find out-” he twisted the cap off the soda and took a sip. He looked at the bottle and took another one.

“I know, they’re really good.” Stiles shrugged. “Go on.”

“I wouldn’t have put you through this,” he said, pointing his finger back and forth between them. “I know how upsetting it must be for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Finding out you’ve been sleeping with-someone like me.”

“A liar? Yeah, anyone would be pissed at you for that.” He saw the confused look on Chris’s face. “I’ve been pretty much thinking of nothing else for the last few days. I’m not ashamed of sleeping with a Were.”

“Because you didn’t know?” He looked away, and Stiles could see a bit of vulnerability there.

“Because unlike ferals, and people who are developmentally disabled, and people who are drunk…you’re one hundred percent capable of consent.” He waited while Chris absorbed what he said. “If I’m right; rather than being like gorillas and chimpanzees, you’re closer to an isolated tribe of humans.”

“Basically, yes. But I’m a little different.”

“How?”

“I was born human,” he said. “I was bitten by a Pack Alpha when I was a teenager.” He frowned. “Nobody knew except my mother.”

“The Hales?” Stiles asked and Chris nodded. “Peter and I were…close when we were younger. I wasn’t there when the fire happened, but some of them survived. Years later, Peter called me. I hadn’t even been certain he was alive, but six years ago he asked me for help. I didn’t find him right away, and when I did it was too late. He was already feral.” Stiles stayed quiet. “There’s a lot more to the story, but those are the basics. I managed to save his niece and got her to South America. I think she’s alive, but I told her she was better off not trying to contact me. I saved Peter’s nephew a few years later, but he was also Feral. I think it might have happened at the same time, but he’d been…in captivity for a while.”

“Why the shelter?”

“I had to stash Peter someplace where he couldn’t hurt anyone, and where he’d be safe from hunters. Deaton knew the Hales. He said Peter would be safest in plain sight.”

“Didn’t anyone recognize him?”

“He’s been in this barn for six years. He has very limited contact with people and only after Deaton okays it.”

“Maybe seeing you would help him.”

“If it were that simple, he would’ve recognized Derek.”


	12. Feds in Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feds come to Beacon Hills to investigate. More background.

On Thursday morning, Stiles was awake, showered and dressed by seven. He got a knock on his door at seven-fifteen and answered it.

“Good morning, Special Agent McCall,” he said with a smirk and stepped back. Rafael McCall came in with a chuckle.

“Stiles, this is my partner, Special Agent Craig Jones.” He indicated the younger man beside him. Jones looked like he was about Stiles’s age, with very serious hazel eyes. “He’ll be asking the majority of the questions today, and I know you’re familiar with a lot of our procedures already. And for God’s sake Kid, call me Rafe.”

“Nice to meet you, Special Agent,” he shook the man’s hand and they both smiled at the tall Agent’s joke.

“I’m sorry to hear about your injury,” Jones said. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m feeling pretty good today, but I’ll be honest when they checked me over at the hospital, I was a little out of it. I’ve gotten banged up plenty of times, but I smacked the back of my head pretty hard this time and I was a little disoriented when I got to the E.D.”

“In what way?”

“I was dizzy and kept forgetting things they’d asked me, so they did the CT scan and there was no bleed. I was kinda irritable, tired, and more absent-minded than usual, but I’ve been feeling better since yesterday. Except the headache.”

“Do you feel like you remember the events of Friday night and early Saturday morning?”

“I do,” he replied. The agents had agreed to interview him at his home since he still couldn’t drive.

“To be official, we’re conducting an investigation into the events that occurred beginning on Friday night and concluded early Saturday morning at the shelter where you work.” Jones got down to business. “What can you tell me about events earlier in the day?”

“We were all doing our best to get finished early,” Stiles said. He explained about the three new per-diem employees covering the shift so they could get time off together. He gave them the approximate time for when Lydia had driven him over to Allison’s house. He told them about Scott and Lydia deciding to stay and Chris giving him a ride to the shelter. He answered their questions, which were mostly fact-checking, but three men were dead, so he wasn’t surprised that they questioned his motives for not running away.

“When did you first realize something was wrong? What made you think it was suspicious?” Jones was taking the lead.

“I saw light flickering in the windows of the retail center, for a second I thought it was a fire, but then I realized it looked like flashlight beams. The moon was really bright, so I didn’t even notice that all the lights were off until then.”

“Why was the power being out suspicious?”

“Because the gate was still powered up. In the event of a regular power outage, the backup comes on for the gate and Alpha barn security, but there would be an auxiliary light blinking either green, yellow or red to state how much power the system had. Since it was still on, and the lights were out at the house, stable, retail and adoption center, and the barn, the outage would have come from the breaker.”

“Can you think of any reason that Alan Deaton or anyone else would have shut off the breakers manually?”

“Deaton was the only person there who should have had access to the breakers. There’s no reason I could think of for him to turn off every breaker at the house and the stable, and the barn. In the unlikely event that every breaker malfunctioned at the same time, except the fence, Deaton would still probably wait until morning to call. We have backup locks, and the Weres weren’t in any danger. If there was risk of an electrical fire, he’d shut off the one breaker and call the fire department. The situation I encountered had too many deviations from a pattern.”

“Why didn’t you go to the house to look for your boss, rather than into the building where you suspected there were thieves?”

“The location of the breakers to the house, barn and stable are inside the house in the basement. If those were tripped, it meant someone had been in there. The moon was really bright and if someone still waited there, I’d be a sitting duck.”

“Why go inside the barn?”

“Under normal circumstances, it should have been the most secure spot. It has its own backup security system like the fence. My ride had left, starting my jeep would be noisy, and I didn’t want to stay out in the open, so I went in there thinking I could lock myself in until I reached Deaton on the phone or the police arrived. When I opened the door, the security system usually prompts me to put in my access code to disarm it. There were emergency lights that are on individual batteries, but the security system, was off. I was certain that Deaton was in trouble at that point.”

“Why?”

“As far as I know, only four people know how to override and re-set the security system to the Alpha barn. I’m one of them, two were with me at the Argents, and the fourth is Deaton. There’s no logical reason to take down the security system, and every reason to leave it up. It’s an older system, but it would probably take a professional to crack it, or Deaton if he was coerced. That’s when I called Chris to call the cops. I didn’t want to stay on the phone, I wasn’t going to leave without knowing where Deaton was. It also still felt safer in with the Alphas.”

“Is that when you unlocked their stalls?”

“That’s when I punched in the codes for the manual combination locks. I still don’t know why they took down the security system to the barn, but in their stalls, the Alphas wouldn’t be able to dodge bullets for long. I wanted to be able to unlock them in a hurry.”

“Why did you think a professional would break into the facility?”

“We have an Omega.” He paused as Jones sat up a little straighter. “He’s young and he presented shortly after being brought to us.”

“Who knew about him?”

“Far more people than we were comfortable with,” Stiles sighed. He told them about Isaac being in rough shape and being unusually tall for an Omega, so he went into the system originally as a Beta. He told them about the WCO getting dozens of lost Omega and stolen Omega reports from commercial farms-including one in Nevada-and how the reports came in as soon as they changed his status. “A young, unmated Omega would be worth close to half a million to a commercial farm that could secure him. They’d be tripling their output and would barely have to feed him enough to survive in order to get those results.”

“You assumed they were here for the Omega.”

“Is that a question?” He waited while Jones looked a little embarrassed.

“Why did you go into the clinic?”

“Chris came back, he wouldn’t leave without me, and I wouldn’t leave without laying eyes on Deaton. I went through to the clinic, it had windows into the quarantine hallway.” He pointed out where the clinic was on the google earth photo. “They were being quiet enough that the Weres weren’t making noise in the main stable, so I figured they were still in the front of the building.”

“Seems like a long time.”

“Is that a question?”

“How long does it take you to get from the retail area to quarantine?”

“With my key and security card? I’ve never timed it.”

“Why risk yourself to get the Omega out?”

“I was trying to find out if Deaton was with them. I hoped to either hear their voices or see someone, but the hall was empty. I saw a chance to grab Isaac and bring him with me. I was back in the clinic and looking through the blinds. I’d be able to see the hallway, but they couldn’t see me. I thought the cops would have been there by now and called Jordan Parrish. He was already on his way and told me the bridge was blocked. I was on the phone with him when I saw the intruders, I also told him Chris Argent was on the premises and…you know, not to shoot him.

“Why did you call him?”

“He’s a licensed Were handler and I wanted as many people experienced with the Weres as possible, he’s also a part-time deputy.”

“You were still in the clinic at this point?” McCall asked.

“Yeah, I waited by the window until the intruders came in, counted three men, and I called Chris back, relayed that Deaton wasn’t with them, and told them I had Isaac with me and that we were retreating into the barn.”

“Why did you bring the Omega into the Alpha barn?”

“It was a tactical retreat. The Alphas wouldn’t hurt the Omega, and it was unlikely that any of them would hurt me. I used my belt to wrap around the clinic doorknobs to keep the Alphas in and the intruders out or at least slow them down.

“Your belt?” The two agents looked at each other and Jones glanced at the written statement Stiles gave the night of the break-in. “There’s no mention of that in the statement.”

“Sorry, that would be the concussion.”

“Are you certain you put your belt on the door?”

“Yes. They’re…special belts. Deaton makes them. They have mountain ash inside them. If they’re fastened, it creates a barrier the Weres can’t cross.” Both agents looked at him blankly. “We have protocols, fail-safes, things we do in order to keep the barn secure. We never leave people unprotected from them, or vice-versa. I put my belt there to slow down the intruders, but also because the cops would probably be all over the building and if the security system didn’t come back up, it was one way to keep the Alphas from going through the door.”

“I thought they were still in their cages?”

“ _Stalls_. Yes, but I was adding a precaution since the security system was down.”

“Why didn’t you leave the Omega?” Jones asked.

“We’ve all gotten attached to him, and I was so close, I couldn’t just leave him there. I took him into the barn to hide.”

“Did you let the Alpha out of his cage at that point?”

“Not a cage, It’s a secured stall, and no, Peter was already out when I came back. So was Duke, but I didn’t realize it until later.”

“How did they get out?”

“Either they both let themselves out, or one let himself out and then let out the other.” Stiles chewed his lip thoughtfully. “They’re the two smartest ones we have, and by far the most opportunistic, so I’m thinking they let themselves out.”

“They didn’t attack you?”

“No, Peter got out of his stall and went into the office to find my stash of ginger snaps.” Jones was looking incredulous. “I bake a lot, and I bring them treats when they’ve been good. I gave Ennis an extra ginger snap earlier, cuz he’s been trying really hard, and the others were probably jealous. Weres have priorities.”

“Are you saying a feral Alpha Were got out of his…stall during a break-in and only got cookies?”

“You haven’t tried my ginger snaps,” he said. “If I hadn’t been in the building, or one of the other senior staff, they might have been agitated, but I was there, they seemed more upset when I came back because I was scared and sweating.”

“How did you not notice that Duke was out?”

“It was dark and there was only emergency lighting near the door ad along the walls. Also, Duke is blind. The other Weres’ eyes will glow red in the dark if they’re alert. I saw four sets including Peter, that’s normal.”

“Okay, let me just catch up here,” McCall interrupted. “At this point you were here?” he pointed to the screen and the barn.

“Correct.”

“All five Alphas, the Omega and you were in there?”

“Yes

“Where were Chris and Parrish?”

“Outside.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, all Hell started breaking loose at that point.”

“What does that mean?”

“I heard the intruders banging on the door. Peter started to growl, and the others roared. It was a challenge, a territorial display.”

“Peter didn’t?”

“No, he was out of his stall, he didn’t need to make a display, the others felt threatened because they were in their stalls. Anyway, they started to shoot the doors. That’s when Peter ran at the doors. I tried to call him back, but he doesn’t like guns, so he charged at the door. I put Isaac into a milking room and locked him in, and then hid in the office.”

“Peter charged the door?”

“Yes, and he got shot. He went down and I couldn’t see him after that.”

“Why not?”

“I was hiding from the men with guns.” They came in and started talking.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“If I’d opened the door, they’d see me. I stayed low because they had flashlights so no night vision. I hid in the office, but I could hear where they were because the Alphas would wait Until they were close and then jump at the bars. I heard Ennis, then Boyd, and then Derek. Boyd must’ve scared one long enough to get him to bac away from his own cage and within range of Derek’s claws.”

“Don’t they have collars to keep their claws in?”

“The collars cause pain when they shift, but they can still do it. They were reacting instinctively. He got one good swipe in.”

“How do you know if you were hiding?”

“They were talking.” Stiles told the agents about what he’d heard them say. “They knew a human was in here, and they were after Isaac.”

“So, you let the Alpha attack them?”

“That was loaded,” Stiles said, looking at Agent Jones. “It begs the question: why do _you_ think I would get between a loaded gun and an angry Alpha Were?”

“Stiles.” Rafe said his name tiredly. “You know we need to ask questions in different ways, and you know why.”

“There’s a point where it just gets ridiculous, like trying to put the responsibility of these men’s lives on me.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” Jones said. “You chose to enter a situation you knew to be dangerous, refused to find safety, made it possible for Alpha Weres to get loose, setting in essence, a very deadly trap for the people who didn’t fire a single shot, or fatally injure anyone until you blocked their exit.”

“Alan Deaton is like family to me, and these men brought down the security system. They had plenty of warning signs about Alpha Weres, and I avoided engaging with them despite having opportunities. They didn’t start shooting until they had strong evidence of a human present. They fired through the doors I’d just been standing in front of. They could have left the way they came, but they didn’t. I absolutely had a reason to believe they’d eliminate me as a witness, so I did not put myself at any further risk.”

“You had your weapons to fight for you.”

“If that was the goal, I wouldn’t have waited. I could’ve sent Ennis into the clinic and through to quarantine. He probably would’ve torn them to pieces.”

“They had guns.”

“In a narrow corridor, Ennis would have the advantage. Odds were good that he could kill all three before they could put enough bullets in him to stop him.”

“I saw a video of him,” McCall said nodding. “He’s taller than me and massive.” He looked at Jones who was flipping back paperwork and pointed. “That one.” Jones’s eyebrows went up.

“The Alpha barn is not an ‘attractive nuisance’. They knew what as in there, and still chose to enter. They even knew at least one Were was loose because he went for the doors. They could’ve backed off then, but they didn’t.”

The agents asked about the man Chris had shot, and Stiles was honest that he hadn’t seen the man draw, but that he’d clearly heard Chris tell him to drop his weapon. As they were finishing up, Stiles thought about something McCall had said. “What video did you see of Ennis?”

“It was something online,” he said. “One of our researchers found it.” Stiles pulled up YouTube and followed Rafe’s prompts. “Why is something wrong?”

“We don’t usually take videos or photos of the feral Alphas.”

“This one,” Rafe said, pointing to a thumbnail of a big snake. “The thumbnail is misleading.”

Stiles clicked on it and watched a ten-minute video of Peter and Ennis playing in the enclosure. He covered his mouth with his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I was there.”

“Yeah, you ended up getting thrown around.”

The two agents and Stiles watched as the events unfolded. He saw Ennis make a playful charge and bat him around. “That looked painful.”

“This was recent,” he said. “This just happened a little while ago.” He saw Peter go in for a slash and crouch over Stiles.

“You couldn’t get me to do your job,” Jones said.

“He was protecting me,” Stiles said. “That’s Peter.” He narrowed his eyes as he saw Theo jump into the shot from the side. The new employee’s voice was loud at such close range. “This had to be the little quiet guy taking the video. He was sitting with Theo, because you can see Tracy’s hair over there.” He pointed to the edge of the screen. “They know they aren’t supposed to take videos. Are there others from this same poster?”

“No, I asked the same question.”

This was posted right after it happened.” He’d paused to point out Tracy and then re-started it to watch as Deaton entered the camera’s view. The camera zoomed in on him as he took off his belt and approached Ennis. His quick movements subdued the Were, and Stiles heard Jones whistle.

“That’s one of the belts?”

“Yeah, and nobody is supposed to know we have them. He doesn’t want people to try and copy them, thinking it will make them Were-proof.”

“Who shot the video?”

“Corey. He and Theo, the guy who jumped up, and the girl with him were the ones covering for us on Friday.” He pressed his lips together. “They were given the gate codes because they were leaving later than usual.”

“So, these three knew you, Scott and Lydia would be gone, leaving Deaton alone?”

“Yeah, and Deaton doesn’t give the impression he’d swat a fly.”

“Someone seeing this would know he can handle himself without a tranquilizer,” Rafe added.

“It’s not exactly a smoking gun,” Jones said.

“No, but have you spoken to these three?” Stiles asked.

“We took their statements for how the closed up and they all three said they were sure the gates were locked behind them and claim they didn’t share the code.”

~

Stiles called Chris after the agents left and after he was finished with work, the hunter picked him up and they drove to the shelter to talk to Deaton. He updated them on what the agents had talked about and abut the video. He pulled it up and Deaton looked unsurprised.

“I heard the truck and since I hadn’t opened the gate, I was suspicious. One of them was already in the house when I went downstairs, however, and cuffed me. I’d started to suspect Theo and his friends initially because they started just after Isaac arrived, but I decided to trust them when they worked hard and never asked about him. I told your father about them the night it happened. Agent McCall talked to me yesterday, so I’ll be following up with them soon.”

“I was suspicious, but I eventually started to trust Theo.”

“I can try looking into them,” Chris said.

“I think you should hold off for now,” Deaton said. “You acted out of concern for Stiles, but you’re a civilian and that tends to look a lot like vigilantism to the Feds.”

“Alright.”

“So, now that I’m…in the club. How long have they been hiding the ability to speak?”

Stiles knew the history that was taught in schools: Weres didn’t need a complex language to communicate with each other, they didn’t need fire, or much in the way of clothing so they hadn’t developed it. They didn’t need weapons or more than the most basic tools because they were hardier, stronger, faster and could break most things. Superstitions drove them to conceal themselves from the more prolific breeding humans and stay in an environment that sustained them with lesser dangers than urban areas, but at some point enough of them were captured and studied by people who only had the most basic understanding of the natural world that they became known. Someone else thought they’d make good livestock and eventually pets.

“Past a certain age, it’s difficult to learn to speak a complex language if you’re unaccustomed to making those sounds,” Deaton said. “Responding to basic commands is different. I believe there have been numerous people who have discovered their intelligence, but fear is likely the best motivator to prevent a species for being elevated. Especially one that is superior to ours in so many ways.”

“Weres could likely dominate humans if their numbers were closer to equal, and if they approached conflict the way humans do.”

“What do we do about the feral ones we have here. The ones who have the base knowledge but lost it?” Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “Do we start with flashcards and let them re-learn?”

“It’s difficult to try and teach them something when they’re captive. Their instincts are telling them they’re unsafe, their experiences tell them they can improve their treatment by not attacking their jailers. There are a few Packs who were like the Hales, and a few of them have gone feral but our communications are limited because the majority of people who know about them masquerading as human want them dead.”

“Hunters?”

“Yes,” Chris said. “My father’s family hated them. I don’t know what started it, but I think only the matriarchs know, and maybe a few higher-ups. My mother knew, and I think my father does, but I’ve never brought it up.”

“How did you get bitten?”

“The Hale Alpha bit me after I’d been injured. I made a full recovery and learned how to control it from them.”

“No luck with finding a way to reverse the drug?” Stiles asked, turning to Deaton.

“Not so far; if I had a sample, I might be able to analyze it, but Weres heal from almost any wound, the idea that this toxin has a lasting effect makes it more of a problem of the mind than of the body.” He looked thoughtful. “Packs that have integrated into the human world are quite shy. Their willingness to share information is limited. It’s happened a few times-the Weres going feral- and only one managed recovery. It was very recent, and the details are sketchy. I’ve asked to meet with the Alpha, but I haven’t heard back yet. I’m not even sure if the initial feral behavior had the same cause.”

“How does it work? The instincts?” Stiles turned to Chris.

“The instincts feel like there’s a separate person inside of you,” Chris said. “For me, learning to control it was like creating a separate identity so I could identify what the animal wants, and what I want.” I had to be taught to build a pathway between the two sides, and then how to put a barrier between them.”

“Peter responded to Chris saying his name by dropping his shift,” Stiles said. “And considering the fact that Peter apparently sees me as his mate, and Chris was…interrupting his attempts to…court me, I think we might be going in the right direction.”

“Derek’s his family, and he’s familiar with him, but they don’t act more human together,” Deaton said.

“Their inner animals are responding to a familiar animal. Derek’s never spoken a word to feral Peter, there’s no reason it would bring him back.”

“I tried when I found him, and almost got gutted,” Chris said. “But he was different the other night.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, “but he may have been traumatized by something. PTSD can stop you from being yourself, I can imagine a lot of things that made them both withdraw into a safer state.”

“You have a good point, Stiles. I knew Peter before, but only a little. The most progress he’s made, and it’s the same for all of them, is with consistent contact with their handlers.” Deaton looked at Stiles. “It might have been too early for Chris to get through to Peter, and you aren’t someone he associates with his trauma.”

“How’s he feeling?” Stiles asked.

“He’s been more lethargic, and listless. I think he misses you, but he’ll be okay. I don’t want to rush your recovery.” Deaton placed a hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

“Tell me about Peter,” Stiles said, suddenly. “What he was like before?”

“Smart, driven, ambitious…” he trailed off and looked sad. “Petty, self-centered, and occasionally immoral. Loyal, loving, protective, passionate, and usually very gentle.” He smiled a little. “You should have seen him with babies. God, that man was baby-central. If anyone in the family, or friends brought a baby to visit, good luck getting it away from him.”

“He liked kids?”

“Nope, past age two, he was annoyed with them until their thirtieth birthdays, and that was when he was in his twenties.” He chuckled with Stiles when the younger man laughed. “He could be impatient. If you made a mistake, and he thought you were smart enough to know better, he was an ass. If he felt you’d been genuinely wronged, he’d get revenge.”

“What about Derek?”

“He was about ten years younger than Peter. He was quiet, intense, thoughtful and eventually a bit arrogant in school. He was just a teenager when the fire happened.”

“Who was the Pack Alpha?”

“Peter’s grandmother was the Pack Alpha when I was bitten. She handed over the reigns to Talia, Peter’s older sister; I think she was about ten or fifteen years older than he was. Talia was Derek’s mother. Laura was the oldest, then Derek, and then Cora. Laura and Derek were away from the house just by coincidence. I don’t know how Peter and Cora got out, but he was damned near dead.” Chris looked at Deaton who had a sad look on his face.

“Talia was incredible,” he said. “I knew her grandmother, and I knew her, but I wasn’t close to the others. I knew Peter a bit, but we hadn’t spoken directly in a long time before the fire.” He got a distant look in his eyes. “Talia could do things even I didn’t know were possible anymore. She was an excellent leader and loved her family fiercely.”

“I got the impression she’d influenced her grandmother to make me part of the pack,” Chris said. “I felt it when Talia…” He was the one who looked sad. “I stayed in contact enough for the pack bonds to keep me sane. It was safest for everyone to stay away from them, but I kept in contact. When I felt Talia’s loss, I called Peter. He couldn’t answer for a while, but I got a text from another number. It just read ‘I’m okay. D, L, C with me.’ And I didn’t hear from them until they came back here.”

“We know someone in the general area was likely responsible,” Deaton said. “We just don’t know who. There are a lot of hunter families and none of them seemed any more suspect than usual.”

“Tell me about Isaac?” Stiles said.

“He was Allison’s,” Chris said. “We’re not supposed to keep them as pets, but I caught her with him at her apartment in Los Angeles. I didn’t say anything, but she called me a few weeks before I brought him to you, she said something had happened to him and he’d disappeared. I couldn’t find him, but he was domesticated, so he shouldn’t have gone far.” He frowned and took another sip of the Mexican soda that Stiles had brought with him. “Allison came to visit Beacon Hills for a week, and I spotted him right afterwards. He couldn't have made it all the way from Los Angeles, so I think he was relatively close and then found his way back.” He looked at the other two. "I haven't told her that he was found."

“Why not?” Deaton asked.

“I think someone who works for us had him. I don’t trust anyone, and she trusts too easily.”

“Everything happening around us seems to be in a smaller and smaller circle,” Deaton said. “I’ve been looking into the wealthy relative who made a sizeable enough donation to put Theo at the top of the list. He was qualified and I thought it made him look better, rather than worse.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No, I’m still digging.”

The men talked about a few other things and Stiles told Deaton he planned to return on Monday unless needed sooner. Chris drove Stiles back to his apartment, and the younger man was quiet for most of the ride.

“How long have you known about my feelings for you?” Stiles looked out the window. “I’m assuming you could tell.”

“Most men smell like low-level arousal between age thirteen and seventy-five,” he said, diplomatically. “I was rarely in the same space as you long enough to know it was directed specifically at me, rather than just appreciation of my ass.”

“Stop avoiding the question,” Stiles said, but he did smile and turn back to face the older man.

“A few years back. You’d had some wine at dinner with Allison, so you hung out in order to sober up. You and I chatted for a few minutes and I could tell you were getting excited.”

“Oh.”

“We were talking about Star Wars.”

“That would do it for me.”

“It did it for me too.”

“Keep talking and you’ll need to get your car detailed again.” He put his aching head back against the head rest and sighed. He felt Chris’s warm hand close over his.

“You’ve been through a lot recently, and a lot of it is my fault. I don’t have the right to pursue you like this. For dozens of reasons.”

“When I’m back to functioning an all cylinders, we’ll talk again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked how Rafe McCall ended things with the series. I wanted him to be an ally. I also wanted to give some Isaac background.
> 
> Coming up next...More revelations about other people and what they all know so I can give Deaton time to get some answers.


	13. Love is all around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving approaches and it's an upswing in everyone's moods.

Friday was a busy day at the shelter. Lydia was there early and thankfully the weather was pleasant enough to get most of the stable Weres outdoors. Kira and Malia seemed a little out of sorts, so she let them play with Isaac in the covered enclosure. She was doing administrative work, so she’d brought her laptop and a folding chair into the enclosure and answered her emails while watching the Betas chase the Omega around. Most of the volunteers and employees were outside, with only Tracy doing some cleaning before the security company arrived.

Lydia’s phone beeped and she pulled up the image that had been sent to her. She smiled to herself and sent it via text. Kira bounded up to her, excited expression on her face and looked at the laptop in Lydia’s hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and snapped it shut. She tucked it into her bag and picked up a hula hoop. “Watch this, Sweetie.” She had three enchanted Weres staring at the hoop and then squabbling over it when she stopped. She took the other two hoops from where they sat on the wall and handed them out. She answered her phone when it rang and smiled. “Hi, Jordan.”

“Hey there, I just wanted to let you know I’m running a little late. They didn’t have my order ready at the hardware store, so it’ll be about another thirty minutes.”

“No problem, thanks for waiting.”

“Yeah, they had Australian Mountain Ash. It’s a totally different type of wood. Not sure it would even work.”

“Yeah, these days you’ve got to make sure you check the Latin names. I have a shed at my place full of the Australian stuff. I’ll eventually make something out of it, it’s a good hardwood, but it was an investment I wasn’t ready to make.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Ms. Martin.” Jordan’s voice lowered a little. “What… _grade_ are we talking about?” Lydia could hear the smile in his voice.

“It was for framing doors,” she whispered huskily. “First and seconds.”

“Oh, that’s soooo naughty, letting it sit out in the shed. You’re a bad, bad girl, Ms. Martin.”

“The shed is insulated and heated. And I stored them elevated and supported.”

“What were you thinking about making?”

“I was actually thinking of making a bed,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t upgraded my mattress in years and I wanted to invest in a nice one, so I kept the wood instead of sending it back at the beginning of the summer. I was pleasantly surprised that it’s quite affordable to rent tools for a single project.”

“Rent them?” Jordan was laughing as he tried to talk. “You can …use my tools any time you need them.” He barely got the words out before he cracked up. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t let that one go to waste, but I’m terrible at innuendo.”

“It was perfect, but now I’ll hold you to it.” She glanced up and saw all three Weres leering at her. “What are you guys looking at?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Um, Malia, Kira and Isaac are with me in the indoor exercise space, and suddenly they’re a bunch of third-graders staring at the teacher.”

“Can’t blame them, really.” Jordan’s voice was shy. “Anyway, I’ll be there around ten fifteen unless they’re running later.”

“I’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone and did another hula hoop demonstration before getting mobbed by grabbing hands and Isaac trying to get into the hula hoop with her.

“I think we’re all set,” Deaton said, leaning in the doorway. Kira went over to him and he took her by the hand to bring her back to the stall she shared with Malia. Malia dashed over to take his other hand while Isaac carried all three hoops for Lydia. He took her hand and led her back to his new room farther down the hall in quarantine. He looked so hopeful that she couldn’t refuse grooming him, and even buffed his nails.

The Alphas were next on Lydia’s list, she stopped to see Derek first, and brought him a pear she’d been keeping for him. She set it aside, so he could take it when he wanted it and he inclined his head slightly in her direction but didn’t make eye contact. She pretended not to notice and brought him to the milking room. He slipped on the soft restraints and stood with his head lowered as she uncapped the jar. He shuffled forward, just a tiny bit and she let him touch his forehead to hers. He sighed and his body relaxed. That was his silent signal to her that he was ready. She worked him up quickly and his first load was thick but not as ample as usual.

Lydia debated another round, but Derek looked moodier than usual, so she left it. Just as they were about to leave the milking room, his hands caught her waist and he pulled her into and almost hug. His chin was on her shoulder, his hands were on her waist and he was hunched over her small form. Despite the danger, Lydia squeezed his sides tightly and held him as he breathed harshly.

“I’ve got you, Derek. You’re safe now.” Lydia twined their fingers and led Derek back to his stall. He rubbed a strand of her red hair against his lips and then turned away, slumping over to his bench and going back into his sulk. She checked on Peter who looked…rough. “Peter?” He glanced up at her and then rolled over onto his other side. “Okay, Buddy, but I’m coming back later.” She rubbed Boyd’s arms, and Ennis’s head-the biggest Were had mellowed since the break-in-and squeezed Duke’s hands. “Okay boys, be good for Scotty.” Lydia had an odd feeling in her chest as she left and joined Deaton at the house. It was an itchy pressure that had her hands trembling and gave her the urge to scream.

Scott milked Duke and Boyd and spent time grooming and pampering them. Boyd had seemed timid after the break-in, afraid of punishment, but Scott just soothed him and told him he was a good Were who had defended his home. He brought some Key limes for Boyd, and tea for Duke. He’d also brought some biscuits that his mother had made for them. Even though she hadn’t met them she treated them like her grandkids and sent in treats. With the holidays approaching, he’d been able to score some roasted chestnuts that he offered Ennis.

“You’ll need the protein, Big Guy. You’ll be breeding soon; we just need to get the security bumped up before then.” He handed Ennis a chestnut and he waited while the Were crunched it thoughtfully before moving forward for more. He’d brought a handkerchief from his mom’s house and had the nuts wrapped in it-they couldn’t give plastics to the Weres. He rubbed the big beast’s ears, briefly before letting him have the little ‘care package’. He went back down the line of stalls to Peter and opened the door. “Hey, Peter.” He unwrapped the gift to the older Were. “Mama McCall made sweet empanadas. She put apples in yours.” He leaned up against the bench and unwrapped the white, butcher’s paper that held the treat. “You did good, Buddy. You protected your _Pack_. You’re a good Alpha.” Peter turned to look at him. “We’re all so glad you’re okay.” He took a bite of the empanada and held out the other half.

Peter took the treat and bit into it. He ate it but didn’t respond when Scott offered another. He twitched when Scott rubbed his leg, like it was slightly irritating, but he was too disinterested to move. “Do you want to talk to him?” Scott asked. “Do you want me to call Stiles?” The Were’s head lifted at the mention of his name. “Hang on, I’ll get my phone and come back.” He left the pastries with Peter and went to get his phone from the office. They all left their valuable electronics out of the reach of quick fingers. He returned with his phone and held it up.

“Hey Peter!” The Were perked up at the sound of Stiles’s voice but looked confused when he couldn’t see him. “Hey, I’m gonna be coming back soon, my doctor needs to clear me to be at my best. I’m not allowed to handle you unless my brain is working at a hundred percent again.” Peter went to the bars and listened. “I might be allowed to stop by later, I can’t be alone with you guys, but I can probably visit.”

“Wear a scarf or something you don’t…care if you get back,” Scott said, and Stiles agreed. “Okay, we’ve got a busy day today and it’s gonna be a little strange because we’ll have people coming in that you don’t know. Be good, though, Okay?”

Scott stayed with the Weres until Parrish arrived with Deaton. They toted in some lumber with Sheriff Stilinski and got to work with the barn doors and windows-reinforcing them. Chris Argent worked with the security system installers and updated the system in the barn. They replaced all of the locks in the stables with the same kind they’d had before, since the combination of high-tech magnetic strips with low-tech backups had worked to effectively slow down the would-be thieves. The process took most of the day and they were there late into the evening. The Alphas at that point were a bit agitated and Deaton gave each of them a light, natural sedative to calm them once the workers were gone.

Stiles arrived with pizza just after nine and Parrish, Lydia, Deaton, Chris, Scott and his dad all dug in with gusto. After bellies were uncomfortably full, he went with Scott and Lydia to the Alphas’ barn. He brought additional slices to the Weres and they eagerly accepted the ‘Mighty Meat Special’ slices and Stiles went down the row of stalls talking to each one and giving them affection. Peter looked at the pizza and then went to his bench. He returned with the butcher’s paper and held out the uneaten empanadas to Stiles. He looked hopeful and Stiles, who was surprised to see the Alpha showing this much concern, accepted one. He gave the big Were a slice of pizza and the Alpha happily devoured it. Afterwards, he took off the old t-shirt he wore and tossed it through the bars. He put his sweatshirt back on and bade the Weres goodnight.

Chris drove him home and when they arrived at Stiles’s apartment, the hunter stiffened slightly.

“My sister’s here,” he said. “Follow my lead.”

Kate eventually approached the truck, moving quietly up the side. The windows were cracked open as the two men talked inside.

“Monday we’ll be going over the roof to secure the skylight, and then I think we’ll be finished. After that, I’d be happy to have you and Lydia at the range for target practice.”

“Thanks, Mr. Argent. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Take care Stiles, and I’ll tell Allison you said hi. She should be back tonight or tomorrow.”

Stiles opened the door to the truck and got out.

“Jesus!” He shouted, recoiling as Kate leaned against the back of the truck. Chris got out quickly and came around the back.

“Kate?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“She showed up at my place and I wouldn’t talk to her. Apparently she has a problem with the word ‘No’.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Go inside, Stiles. If I don’t see you Monday, have a good Thanksgiving.” He turned his gaze to Kate who was doing her best to look sly. “You need to leave this kid alone,” he said. “I believed you when you said you’d followed me here and didn’t remember Stiles because I thought you were drunk last Christmas, but I’ve really got my doubts now.”

“Relax, Chris.” Kate rolled her eyes and tried to brush him off, but she smelled nervous. “I heard about him during the break-in, and I wanted to talk to him about it.”

“Why?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Why do you feel like that’s a good enough reason to pry into someone’s personal life? And for that matter, you could’ve sent him an email instead of showing up at his house uninvited. Twice.”

“I’m a pushy person,” she said with a shrug. “I like getting answers and people tend to give them when you’re standing in front of them.” She grinned widely. “Why’re you so protective, Chris?”

“You’re embarrassing the family, and if you end up with a restraining order against you from a kid ten years younger than you, we’re going to have bad press.” He took another step towards her. “I don’t care if you like pursuing people younger than you, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, but you’re harassing a friend of Allison’s who I’ve known for over a decade, and he is very clearly uncomfortable with your attention.”

“I’m not into the kid that way,” she said, brushing the comment away with a gesture.

“You’re doing a pretty good impression of it. Now as the CEO of Argent Arms, I’m officially telling you to stay away from the Stilinskis. _Both_ of them. We have a good relationship with the shelter and the Sheriff’s department, and your personal crushes, or vendettas are bad for business.” He could smell her rage and hear her heartbeat. “I can’t believe I actually have to tell my own sister to stop stalking a kid who grew up with Allison.”

“I’m not stalking him.”

“You’ve been to his apartment three times now. And even after you were told he didn’t want to talk to you, you’ve showed up again. That absolutely _is_ stalking. I’m going to talk to the Sheriff and assure him that I’ve told you to leave his son alone, and that you’re aware that your behavior is unacceptable.”

“If he’d just answered my questions-I mean, what’s he hiding?”

“You’re nobody, Kate.” Chris could hear her heartbeat stutter. “You’re not in law enforcement, you’re not in Were-control, you’re not even an official representative of Argent Arms because of your past. You’re nobody to _him_.” He pointed to the building. “He’s probably called his father who can actually get a restraining order.”

“He wouldn’t bring me into court,” she sneered.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” she said with a knowing smirk.

“If you think he won’t hesitate to take you into court, or arrest you, because you had sex with him over a year ago, you don’t understand how the court will see it.”

“The Sheriff retaliating against a woman after she turned him down for a date?”

“No, a woman who initiated sex with him twice at his house, and then started pursuing his son despite the man’s very clear rejections on multiple occasions. He even rejected you in front of the Sheriff and you _still_ waited outside his apartment building.”

“I’m not trying to get the kid to go on a date with me,” she said. “As if I’d let him touch me.”

“Then why can’t you leave him alone?” Chris saw it then, the wheels turning, and the change to a more pleasant expression. She wanted to know about the Weres.

“Okay,” she threw up her hands. “All I’d wanted was to find out more about the Alphas he works with. It was purely a professional curiosity.”

“You approached it unprofessionally.”

“Fine! I’ll apologize to him.”

“He doesn’t want your apology. He doesn’t want to ever see you or hear from you again. Do you get it now?”

“If I can just explain-”

“No!” Chris almost shouted into her face. “You lost the right to explain yourself by not respecting his boundaries. He doesn’t care if you’re sorry, or if you didn’t mean any harm. You’ve lost any chance of having a civil conversation because he has the right to not listen.”

“Alright.”

“You’re going to France on the next available flight. You’re unofficially suspended from the board. If you don’t accept, I’ll lay it out for the other board members, and they can decide whether or not to make it official.”

“What?” She looked incredulous. “Over me trying to ask some questions?”

“Over you harassing the son of a County Sheriff you used to fuck. It makes you look just as crazy as you’ve always been.” He had to throw her a bone, or she’d burn the earth to try and force people to see her differently. “I don’t actually think you’re hot for Stiles,” he said. “I think you’re used to people being flattered by your attention, and to be honest, a lot of them are. Every second you spend plotting against, thinking about, and trying to pry into this kid’s business is driving you closer and closer to getting fired and publicly humiliated.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Your image is far worse than you know,” Chris said, fixing his face into an expression of concern. “We haven’t said anything because when you know someone doesn’t like you, you try to punish them for it. It’s unpleasant at best, and psychotic at worst, people talk in the company and nobody likes the CEO’s crazy sister anymore. You used to be charming and charismatic, but now you come off as bitter and controlling.”

“I’m not controlling!”

“You’re stalking a kid because he won’t give you personal information that you have no right to ask.”

“If he’s got nothing to hide-” she began but Chris cut her off.

“If he really has nothing to hide, it’s still none of your business. You’re a virtual stranger who he doesn’t like. He might’ve opened up to you ten years ago, but now you just look like a desperate cougar.”

“Fine, I’ll go to France.”

“And you’ll never go near Stiles, his father, or the shelter ever again, right?” He saw her roll her eyes. “If he doesn’t matter to you, prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“You need to prove to me that you can stay out of trouble by leaving the kid alone, or you’re out of a job. I’m tired of dealing with your little fits. Get out of here before the Sheriff arrives.”

Kate left and Chris texted John.

_To BHCS-I spoke with Kate. It’s none of my business, but you should talk to Stiles about her. She’ll back off for a bit, but she’ll probably try to gaslight you both at some point._

_From BHCS-Thanks. I’m hitting the hay, but I’ll talk to Stiles tomorrow._

Chris went upstairs and knocked on Stiles’s door.

“Come in,” he said.

“You need to lock this door,” he said walking in and closing it behind him. “I wanted to show you something.” He and Stiles sat on either side of his tiny breakfast bar. He took out a battered envelope with some photographs. He laid a few of them out on the counter. “These were taken at the Independence Day barbecue before the Hale fire,” he said.

“Oh.” Stiles’s voice was reverent as he looked at the pictures. Chris and a man who was unmistakably Peter sat together at a picnic table. They were laughing and Peter had his hand on the shoulder of a dark-haired teenager. “Is that Derek?”

“I kept these locked away.”

The others showed Peter and Chris chasing smaller children through a sprinkler, and one with Chris getting a piggyback ride from Peter. They looked very young in that one. There were others who Chris pointed out as Laura and Cora Hale in the remaining photos.

“You look happy,” Stiles said. “It’s surreal to see him looking so human.”

“It’s the posture,” Chris said. “Weres don’t naturally pull their shoulders back and extend their spines. Its why they’re not usually mistaken for human, even when groomed.”

“You want him back, don’t you?”

“He didn’t deserve to have his mind ripped away from him. Neither did Derek.”

“What happened to Laura?” He looked at Chris. “She survived the fire too, right?”

“She’d dead, unfortunately. She was a good Pack Alpha, despite the circumstances. If we can get Derek and Peter to start responding, or re-learning things, they might be able to find Cora.”

“Deaton said he was meeting with someone to find out more about the Were who may have been exposed before recovering. I just hope I’m cleared for duty soon.”

“I thought you were going back on Monday.”

“I am, but I can’t be alone with the Weres until I’ve had a neuro evaluation. The appointments are hard to come by.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should come by again.”

“I don’t want Peter to see me while he’s in a cage. I want to hear from Deaton before we do anything else.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

Chris left and took the photographs with him. When he returned home, he took a moment to look through them before putting them back in the safe where he kept his gun. The one of Peter carrying him around stayed in his hand the longest. He took a moment and listened: Kate was in the guest room, and from the sound of it, she was packing. _Good._ He closed up the safe and locked the door to his study and went up to his room. As he lay in bed, he thought back to the day they’d taken the photo.

~

“My sister thinks I’m an idiot,” Peter said, glumly; he was stretched out on the bed in his bedroom.

“You might’ve been a bit of one,” Chris said, “but it’s not like a lot of people don’t do the same thing. What’s the plan?”

“I’m in my freshman year of college, she doesn’t want to move away from the beach, and neither of us is ready for this.”

“The pack could help you; you know that.”

“She’s different than us,” he said. “Corinne doesn’t really want a pack. She’s a Werecoyote. They like being loners with looser connections. Anyway, Talia offered to give her money in exchange for putting the baby up for adoption. She’s said she’ll arrange it.”

“Victoria and I are looking into adopting a child,” Chris said. He’d been married for two years, just out of college. “We could-”

“No!” Peter sat up. “I’m not very paternal, you know that. But knowing how close she is to me would make it hard not to stay in her life.”

“Who else knows?”

“You, me, Talia and Corinne.” He sighed. “I know it’s the right thing to do, but it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Do you want her?”

“I don’t want to be a father. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I’ll still feel that pull towards her, and I might not be able to stay away.”

“You can move away.”

“Talia’s not going to tell me where it goes and…She offered to take the memory.”

“Wow.” Chris whistled lowly. “That’s big. Will it work? I mean, would you know even with the memory thing. If you saw her on the street, would you know her?”

“Yes, we always know. But the odds of running into each other are pretty slim if she’s farther away. I mean, who comes to Beacon Hills?”

“Good point.”

“I’m gonna do it before the kid is born. The longer I wait, the more likely I’ll be anxious and suspect something.” He looked at Chris. “Will you be here?”

“I’ll stay.”

Chris hadn’t realized that Peter meant he was doing it that night, but Talia had given him an order to never mention it, and Peter had slept for several hours, waking at dusk and waking as the mischievous man Chris knew.

“When did you get here?” he asked, reaching out an arm to hook around Chris’s waist. The older Were knew Talia had removed the memory of Peter’s call to him, asking to see him.

“Just a little while ago. I’m home for the weekend, we should go hiking and take pictures of the waterfall.”

~

Lydia woke on Saturday morning and stretched against the tension in her lower back. She picked up her phone and saw she had a text message from Jackson.

_From Jax- How did it go?_

_To Jax- Fine, I think I’ve got your papers in order. I’ll call you later._

_From Jax- Okay._

Lydia placed the phone back on her nightstand and snuggled under the covers. She’d been trying to get the right things in order for Jackson to have a proper identity. He didn’t even have a last name yet, which made things awkward when he met people. She knew she could change his name, but Jackson was popular enough that she’d eventually found what she’d been looking for. A car crash had taken the lives of a small family, shortly after the birth of their son. There had been four dead, baby Jacksons that could match the Were’s age within a few years, but this one had little or no extended family. The grandparents had all passed away, and the only sibling had been the mother’s brother who had also perished in the accident.

Lydia had sent a request to the state and had received the birth certificate of Jackson Whittemore who would be twenty-four years old now. She’d used it to get him a new social security card, and they’d used it to order him a photo I.D. at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. She’d already started faking an employment record for him, and he’d started practicing his back story. She got up to make coffee and smiled when she saw a text from Jordan.

From WCO- give me a call when you’re up. I’d love to talk about plans for your new bed and maybe we can chat about it over lunch.

_To WCO-I’d love to, want to come over?_

_From WCO-When are you free?_

_To WCO-I’m free today, it’s my day off. I can even do Belgian waffles if you want to make it brunch._

_From WCO- is 11AM okay?_

_To WCO-Waffles will be hot and ready._

_From WCO-Can I bring anything?_

_To WCO-OJ?_

_From WCO- Consider it done. See you then._

Lydia liked Jordan for more than his looks and his reactions to her. She just had a good _feeling_ about him, like they already knew each other. She’d forgotten to pick up the mail and when she saw the envelope with the Bureau of Motor Vehicles return address she squealed with excitement. She took a quick shower, gathered her paperwork and hurried over to the apartment building. She was excited to show Jackson what she had for him and let herself into his apartment while calling his name.

“Um…Jackson?” A young man was standing in the tiny kitchen with a spatula in hand. He was wearing an apron but didn’t appear to have anything else on. Lydia blinked owlishly and heard the bathroom door open.

“Lydia?” Jackson came running down the hall with soap in his hair and a towel around his waist. “Shit.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I got this,” she held up the envelope for him. “I texted you telling you I was on my way; you must’ve been in the shower.”

“It’s okay,” he said and nodded to the other man. “This is Aiden. He crashed here last night with his brother, Ethan. Ethan’s…still sleeping.” He turned to Aiden. “Aiden, this is Lydia, she owns the building, and we used to live together.”

“I usually knock,” she replied.

“Don’t apologize,” Aiden said, flipping a pancake. “Want a pancake?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got to get back, but it was nice meeting you.” She handed Jackson the envelope and he looked at it. Before she left, he gave her a wet, soapy hug and scented her. “I’m so excited,” she said.

“I just hope the photo came out okay.”

Lydia left and stopped by the store to get some fresh fruit for the waffles and on a whim, she grabbed a bottle of Champagne. She was so excited that she didn’t notice the car that had followed her from her house to the apartment building and back again. She got out her Belgian waffle maker and started beating the egg whites, Jordan arrived right on time and accepted a cappuccino, gratefully.

“This is impressive,” he said, looking around at the house. “You rent this?”

“No, my grandmother used to live here, she left it to me in a trust. My dad tried to take it in the divorce, but my mom was the trustee. She rented it out for years to cover the taxes and bills. I used it as income during school, and when I graduated, I moved in.”  
“Were you close to your grandmother?” he asked.

“Extremely. We had a lot of the same interests, like math and economics. She’d had other properties but left those to my dad. He eventually sold them.” She dropped a ladle-full of batter onto the griddle, closed it and went back to slicing strawberries. “What about you? I don’t know if we’ve talked about your family.”

“I was an only child, and my parents live in Arizona. I usually fly down there for Christmas each year, and they come up in the summer, but they were older when they had me and they’re settling into retirement.”

“When will you leave for the holiday this year?”

“They’re taking a cruise, so I’ll see them in February.”

“My Dad’s remarried and his wife’s family is going to Colorado to ski. I was invited, but I’m not a big skier.”

“What about your mom?”

“She moved to San Diego, and I’ll join her for Thanksgiving, but I’m working Christmas this year so Deaton can go see his sister. She and her partner are expecting a baby.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind, he never gets a break.”

Jordan heated the syrup and opened the jug of fresh squeezed orange juice. He also set the table without being asked and poured the mimosas. When they sat down together, it felt natural and Lydia found herself wondering, for the first time in a long time, if it was time to let someone get close to her.

~

Sheriff Stilinski slept in on Saturday morning. He rolled over and smiled when his cheek landed on a mass of curls. Melissa couldn’t always stay the night. They were frequently like ships passing each other because of their longer shifts that lasted twelve hours or more. He wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled into her warmth. They’d been too tired the previous night to do much besides chat and fall asleep, but he’d had a rare ten hours uninterrupted and it recharged his batteries. It revved his engine a little as well, but he kept his hips back the necessary space.

“I’m not opening my eyes until there’s coffee in the pot,” mumbled Melissa.

“As you wish,” he replied and dropped a kiss on her cheek. It was their deal: if one of them made the trip over to the other’s house after a long shift, the host had to make the coffee when they woke. It was one of the things that had made things between them feel settled. They didn’t label their relationship; they both had lives that were too busy to easily carve out space for the other, but they found room for each other in the spaces between the last crisis and the next. He’d asked her in advance to be his date for the Christmas party, which would be held in January, and she’d accepted. He hoped it would act as an unofficial announcement that they were…spending what little free time they had with each other.

John made coffee and popped a pair of bagels in the toaster oven while it brewed. He took out the mug she liked, poured in milk and sugar and popped it in the microwave just long enough to take the chill off it. He made up a tray with jelly and cream cheese, napkins and a knife and poured the coffee into their cups just as the toaster oven beeped. He gingerly juggled them onto a single plate-they had to share with only one tray-and headed up the stairs. Melissa came out of the bathroom just as he walked back in.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said and scooted back under the covers.

“It’s nice to have you here in the mornings,” he said. “I’m glad you were here last night. I was pretty angry with Kate for showing up again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Melissa said. “I like Allison, but I’m kind of glad that she and Scott aren’t struggling to stay together anymore. This would have made things more awkward.”

“How’s Stiles feeling?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “I know Dr. Rothstein’s busy, but he said he’d try to fit him in this coming week.”

“That’s nice of you to ask him. I know Stiles appreciates it.” He frowned and picked up his own cup of coffee, leaning down as she gently patted down his cowlick. “Do you think we should talk to them about our occasional sleepovers?”

“No,” she said. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

~

Stiles answered the door in his boxers for Allison and Scott. He yawned and gestured in a vaguely welcoming manner as they came inside. He stubbed his toe on a wooden stool on his way to the coffee maker.

“Hey,” Allison said. “Sit down, let me make it.”

“It’s been a week, I’m officially off my caffeine restriction,” he said and went back to his room to put on sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“So, can we count on your for Thanksgiving?” Scott asked.

“How could I miss your mom and my dad dancing around each other like awkward teenagers?” He accepted his mug and kissed Allison’s forehead.

“Are you serious?” Allison asked, rifling through his fridge. She came up with eggs and bacon and sliced some of his homemade bread for the toaster.

“He didn’t tell you?” Stiles asked as Allison poured two more mugs and got to work in the kitchen. “You don’t have to cook, you know?”

“Yes I do,” she replied. “I’m French, we feed our way into forgiveness.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I still feel responsible because I’ve defended her so many times.” Allison turned on the broiler and put strips of bacon on a wire rack with a pan underneath it. “I’ve been taking it for granted because she’s been saying she’s ‘just kidding’ or ‘they like the attention’.” She paused and looked at Stiles. “It’s also partly my fault because she was at the house when I heard about the break-in. I was talking to Dad about it and she was sitting there and listening.”

“Did she ask you anything about me?”

“No,” Allison replied. “She didn’t seem to care until Dad said that two of the Alphas attacked and got shot.”

“What did she ask?”

“About the shelter and how long its been around and how often we bring them wild ones.” She frowned. “She’s never really cared about the shelter before.”

Stiles wanted to ask her about Isaac, but kept his mouth shut. Chris hadn’t brought it up with her for a reason, and he wanted to talk to the older Argent before he voiced his concerns.

“The security system’s been updated now, and the last bit gets done on Monday. Hopefully we’ll be safe then.”

“Did your dad find anything?” Allison asked Scott.

“He can’t tell me about it, but we’re watching our backs. Omegas are too valuable to trust people around them.”

“Omega?” Allison looked up. “I thought they were after your Alphas.”

“No, I don’t think so. Why would they steal Alphas?” Stiles leaned on the counter as Allison scrambled some eggs with hot sauce before pouring them into a frying pan.

“There’s stiff competition out there. A lot of the smaller, more humane operations have had vandalism and other things to try and put them out of business.” She put the bread in the toaster and stirred the eggs, deftly. “Sometimes they’ll let the Alphas loose, steal them if they can, or kill them if they can’t. It’s a brutal business.”

“That would explain why they’d taken down the security in the barn,” Scott said, meeting Stiles’s gaze. “Taking Isaac and killing our five producers would kill our profits.”

“And I was just in Vegas at the trade show.” Stiles face-palmed and shook his head before turning to Scott. “Tell your dad, although he might already know.” Allison served them up crispy bacon, eggs and toast and refilled their coffees. They sat and ate while Scot talked about his classes, Allison talked about her last trip to L.A. before the holidays and what kind of time they had off.

“Dad is sending Kate to France, so she won’t be around for a while. I’ll be gone this coming week, but I’ll be back a few days before Thanksgiving if you want to get together again.” Stiles agreed to try another dinner night, and bade his friends farewell before cleaning up the dishes. He got a visit from his father and they had a long talk. Afterwards, he sent Chris a text message and the man showed up at six with dinner. They chatted about Kate and her true motivations for stalking him, since neither of them believed it was motivated by the irresistible Stilinski charm anymore.

After dinner, they watched a movie and Stiles talked Chris into exchanging blowjobs. Chris chased him to the bedroom and they both undressed so they could do it at the same time. When they were sweating and panting afterwards, Stiles remarked that it was the first time he’d actually had Alpha _essence_ from the source. Chris had laughed and told him he’d always been glad Victoria hadn’t enjoyed swallowing because she had such a high sex drive, she’d have figured out she was married to a Were.

“She never knew?”

“Not until the end.” Chris and Stiles didn’t talk about her again. Chris didn’t spend the night but told Stiles he’d be busy for the next few days. “I’ll keep in touch and let me know when you hear from Deaton.”

On Monday Stiles was back at work with Scott and Lydia. He found that despite his absence and Peter’s unwillingness to respond to Deaton and Lydia to be milked, his balls didn’t appear particularly engorged. The shirt he’d left was free of any suspicious stains, and Peter, although subdued, seemed happy to see him.

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Who are you saying that to?” Stiles asked with a chuckle as he tried to work Peter’s half-chub into something that might produce some essence. Scott was standing at the cracked-open door to the milking room, following orders to the letter.

“I don’t know,” he said, breaking into giggles. “Okay, since he’s restrained, I’ll step over here.” Scott stepped out of sight and Peter relaxed a little.

“How’d you like those empanadas?” He rubbed the side of Peter’s neck and thumbed his nipples, trying to tease a reaction out of the old Were. “I can’t cheat by letting you sniff my pits, Petey. I’ve already let you get too familiar.”

“Yeah, and now he’s initiated courtship rituals,” Scott said.

“What do you mean?” He started to sweat, wondering if Chris had told him about the invasive rim job he’d been given in the woods.

“He gave you the empanadas. Do you know what that Were will do for my mom’s apple empanadas?”

“I know what _I’d_ do for them, but your mom turned me down when I proposed at twelve.”

“Yeah, so glad she did.”

“Why? I’d have been a great step-dad,” he said. “I’d have played video games, spent time with you at school, and never _not_ had time for lacrosse.”

“That does sound pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, I was already carrying around your extra inhaler, and your mom had me checking your homework for you.”

“You’re right,” Scott said, like he was having an epiphany. “You were a better dad growing up than mine was.”

“That’s it, Petey,” Stiles said as the organ plumped up in his hand. “Who’s Scott’s Daddy?”

“You are!” the floppy-haired vet said, happily. “You’re the best Daddy ever!” They both laughed and Stiles had to grab for the jar to catch Peter’s paltry contribution to their retail store.

“Seriously, Scotty, I swear he’s just phoning it in.”

“And listen to the Were-specialist Vet when I suggest you try again in a few hours.” Scott took the jar and gave Peter a knowing look as Stiles unfastened his bindings. “You’ve been gone for a week, now he’s gonna be producing more since you got back.”

“Just keep the extra lock on his collar, he knows how to get them off.”

Stiles and Lydia brought Boyd and Derek to the exercise enclosure and let them play. Derek was reserved, but when Boyd looked dejected, Derek put in some effort. Stiles brought in some hacky-sacks and practiced juggling with the big, dark Were. He saw a familiar person climbing onto the bleachers and jogged over to say hi. Before he reached them, however, Boyd zoomed past him and howled at Erica Reyes. Lydia got up and walked over with Stiles to greet her.

“Hey, Beautiful Boy!” She waved and went over to the edge of the enclosure, careful not to reach in. “Hey Stiles.” She looked pale and weak, but happy. He knew she’d had a rough time adjusting to her meds since the accident the previous year, but she looked happy as Boyd practically danced in front of her. “Jordan’s here to help with the skylight, I conned him into letting me tag along. Hi Lydia.”

“He told me Boyd was crazy about you,” Lydia said. “He wasn’t kidding.” She glanced at Stiles and back at Erica. Stiles nodded at Lydia and tilted his head to the side.

“Is your handling license still active?” Stiles asked.

“Till the end of next year, but only technically. I won’t be able to re-cert when the time comes.” She looked up at the two humans. “Why?”

“Boyd’s in a good place right now, we’ve thought about fostering him out. We’ve got some real bruisers here, and he came into the barn because he couldn’t be with crowds. We kept him here because he’s strong enough to play with Derek, and he does well with the attention.” He saw her eyes widen. “Do you have any free time during the week?”

“I’m on disability because I can’t do computer screens, or drive, or…anything else.” She looked sad but hopeful. “Do you need help here?”

“We can always use help from someone we trust. I’ll talk to Deaton, but we’ve been talking about broadening Boyd’s horizons for a while and letting him get out some more. He’s the one with the best chances of being re-homed.”

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Lydia said, quickly. “In fact, we’d be happy if you just wanted to come and visit with him from time to time.”

“I’d love to, and yeah, I can look into fostering as well. I’m not sure if my apartment allows Weres or not, but it’s worth a shot.”

“She’s licensed,” Stiles said. “Can she come back here?”

“Yeah, let me just put Derek away.” Scott walked Erica in, and Jordan stopped by and watched as Scott, Erica and Boyd played in the enclosure. Lydia looked like she might cry when she returned. Jordan put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

“He’s amazing with her,” Jordan said. Boyd had been rescued before the shelter had expanded. They hadn’t had room for him and the red tape of prosecuting the circus and Boyd being ‘evidence’ had delayed things. Erica had cared for him at her house during the night and brought him with her to work during her shifts. He’d tolerated the drunk tank because she’d been the only one to come in to feed him and groom him. “I had to work with him a lot in order to get him to trust me, you guys have done so much.”

“These are the moments that make it worth it,” Lydia said. “And I don’t want to overstep, but he does still need to be milked regularly. If he’s not around other Alphas, he’ll slow down, but having access to essence might end up being helpful for her too.”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it, but I can ask if I find a good moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sheriff/Melissa. I couldn't resist. I also love Erica/Boyd and Lydia/Parrish.


	14. The world is a dark and dangerous place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was about hope and happiness. This chapter's not like that.
> 
> *Read end notes for trigger warnings**

October had flown by, and with November came the end of mating season. It was more of a taper than a light switch, especially with warmer temperatures. Thoughts were slowly turning from procreation to food and putting on weight for the winter months. The first Friday of each month was put aside for adoptions, and the booth they’d set up for the ‘Trunk or Treat’ event held the weekend before Halloween had been a successful draw. They had lots of photos to put up on the shelter’s website of the four young, docile Weres that had gone with Lydia and Theo to the booth. Stiles loved Halloween, but Lydia had firmly reminded him that he’d been sent to Vegas and San Diego on the company dime and she was absolutely _not_ going to be robbed of the opportunity to show off her grooming skills.

The first Friday adoption event had resulted in a dozen adoptions and Deaton had managed to schedule three more private showings where a total of four Betas had gone to new homes-one each to two owners, and a set of siblings to the third. Easing the crowding had been a relief for the workers and volunteers, and Stiles had been bringing in lots of baked treats to show his appreciation for their hard work during the summer. 

Peter’s behavioral problems continued to worsen. He began losing weight because he wasn’t eating, and Stiles was worried about the Were. Scott seemed to be correct that the Alpha was pining for Stiles, but the human Omega could do little to help him.

“He’s failed to secure his chosen mate for the season,” Scott said. “The break-in might have tipped him over the edge into depression. He can’t properly court you, he can’t build a pack, and he’s been essentially friend-zoned by the only person in his life. We all know this is a possibility.” The news did make sense, but Stiles didn’t want to accept it. He’d seen the photos of a vibrant, lively Peter, and he knew that the _man_ inside the Were had a family. Even if Derek was the only one, they deserved a chance, and to die this way, from loneliness, was the worst way to go.

Perhaps it twisted the knife deeper that Ennis was breeding female Weres during the first two weeks of the month. The break-in had bumped the breedings back and clustered them together, but the owners of the females were still confident in the pairings. Deaton had cleared out the breeding room and donned a scent neutralizing suit along with Scott. The day prior to the mating had been all about the _tease._ The first female was quite young; a jumpy, nervous female named Connie who’d been driven all the way from Montana. Ennis had been selected to be her first breeding partner after she’d failed to become pregnant with insemination. Her handler wasn’t a huge fan of breeding her, but it wasn’t her job to give an opinion. Connie was objectively a strong candidate to birth an Omega like Isaac since testing had shown that she was likely a female Omega.

Connie had been hand-raised into her teens and was very obedient. She’d never been comfortable around male handlers, preferring females, but there was no indication of abuse. Her handler, an older woman named Ramona, said she thought the Were preferred females to males, and had a Beta companion named Amanda to whom she was very attached.

“We’re not looking for her to be bonded, so it shouldn’t matter much where the pup comes from.” Ramona said. Placing her in the empty cage across from Duke, and beside Ennis had made Connie more nervous at first, although it had improved Ennis’s spirits considerably. Scott and Deaton had been very pleased to report that Ennis had preened for her, attempted to initiate play behavior, and even offered her food.

Connie had eventually warmed up enough to allow some social grooming. Leaving the breeding until late in the season had likely been a blessing in disguise since her hormones would be pushing her to try and get pregnant before winter. Connie had been too valuable to leave alone with Ennis, even with bars between them, so the humans had hung around in a casual way, giving the couple a chance to get to know each other. Eventually, their time together was winding to a close and Connie’s handler reluctantly agreed to ‘bench’ the female.

The breeding room’s Mountain Ash walls dampened the abilities of the Weres, but Ennis was exceptionally strong. He’d been muzzled and his hands and feet were bound to keep his claws in check, making him look a bit like Hannibal Lecter. Stiles had to admit he didn’t blame Connie one bit for balking at his appearance.

Ennis had surprised them by crooning to Connie, soothingly. It was the softest vocalization they’d heard from him, but Deaton was pleased. The little female had been nervous enough to try and bolt from her handler before the door had been closed. Stiles had joined since they’d needed an extra hand with the bench. Connie had been strapped in, with legs and arms restrained, and the wheels on the bench unlocked to roll it back towards Ennis.

“Despite his hostility to other Alphas and Betas,” Deaton said as Scott and Stiles watched open-mouthed, as Ennis used his forearms to pet and caress Connie, “he was a Pack Alpha, and the female is younger, submissive, and ready to breed. She is no threat and will theoretically incubate his young. He has every reason to be gentle with her.”

Ennis was gentle with Connie, or at least as gentle as possible. He’d been allowed some slack in his tether and the humans had backed off. He’d purred and rumbled at her, nuzzling as best he could with his muzzled face as he’d mounted her. Squirming with discomfort at initially being breached, Connie had eventually let her head drop down as the Alpha got into his rhythm. She’d whined with a glazed look and arched as the breeding continued, and had been trembling when she’d been knotted, seemingly content with the conclusion of the act. Stiles had felt a bit numb during the process until Ramona’s boss had met them at the gate later. Ramona had praised the young Were for doing so well and the older man had barked out a laugh.

“Told you all she needed was to take her first dick. She’ll forget all about that other one once she’s pupped.”

“Why, where’s Amanda?”

“Went nuts two days after you left, Charlie told me he had to put her down when she attacked him.”

Stiles saw the look on Ramona’s face and clasped the older woman’s shoulder tightly. The owner climbed into the rig, and Ramona had to compose herself before joining him.

“They’ll only make it harder for me if they know it bothers me,” she said when she waved away Stiles’s sympathy. “I practically raised them both.”

Stiles didn’t tell Lydia about Connie when she returned from her days off.

The second mating went more smoothly with a female named Sasha who was dark and sleek. They’d mated several years in a row and had a good rapport. Stiles and Lydia supervised the teasing and at one point had to break up some serious foreplay.

“What’s happening?” Deaton asked as he returned from his lunch break.

“Rounding third base and heading for home.” Lydia pointed to where Sasha was on her knees in front of Ennis. Her short, curly hair bounced as her head bobbed enthusiastically on the massive tool.

“Let’s get them into the room together.”

The handler had preferred not to be in the room for the breeding, which suited the staff just fine. They didn’t like having more people in the barn than absolutely necessary. A few clangs on the bars warned of the impending return of the electrical current and the two Weres jumped apart. Ennis practically dragged Deaton down to the breeding room and he held still for his restraints. Sasha tried to climb onto his lap to ride him and she had to be gently corrected to the proper posture. She’d wiggled with delight as Ennis had mounted her and they both seemed to be rumbling sweet nothings as he entered her and began to thrust. She nipped playfully at his chin and pushed back against his swelling knot, sighing after her apparent orgasm and being rolled onto her side and spooned by the behemoth.

Ennis was praised and given extra grooming and treats after his good treatment of the two females. Stiles was relieved that he wasn’t present for the last pairing which had been with a female Alpha. It was always risky to try and breed two Alphas, and Kali was about as aggressive as an Alpha could get. She was frequently sedated, and Deaton had been told that this mating was her last chance to prove herself of value to her owners before being euthanized. Apparently her bloodlust for other Weres was unnatural, and Scott suggested it might have been caused by trauma. Like Ennis, she’d been a Pack Alpha once.

“It was bad,” Scott said, sitting on Stiles’s loveseat and drinking a heavily spiked lime soda. He looked pale under his tan. “Kali was practically feral. I have no idea how they’ve managed to control her so far. She tried to attack Ennis and snarled at him constantly. I didn’t even see any signs she was in heat. Deaton brought it up, but the handler said they’d done blood tests and that she was just good at hiding it. I honestly don’t completely believe her.”

“How’d they manage it?”

“Sedated her and benched her. Ennis was okay taking ‘no’ for an answer, and if she was really in heat, he’d have at least continued to try and get her attention or calm her down.” The young vet chugged his soda and put the empty bottle down very firmly on the coffee table. “We made progress with Ennis. He’s usually been good with Sasha but indifferent at best to the others. This year he was so great with Connie; patient and even affectionate. Deaton and the handler were the only ones in there with me. I kinda wish I hadn’t been.”

“I’m sorry, Scotty. I know how much you care for them.” Scott didn’t look like he’d even heard Stiles and kept talking.

“Kali was benched, and we wheeled her in. She barely moved when Ennis was sniffing her. We thought she was unconscious during most of the breeding, didn’t make a noise. Then Ennis was about to knot her, and he bent his head down.” Scott snapped his fingers. “Just like that, she turns and takes a chunk right out of his face.”

“Jesus!”

“Kali was smug, and then she started pushing back, like she wanted to knot just so he’d be stuck with her. I’ve never seen a Were be so…toxic.” He got quiet for a moment. “Ennis pulled out, and we let him because we didn’t want him hurt, but I guess he-he wanted to _show_ her-” He sniffled, and Stiles noticed his friend’s eyes were bright with tears. “He put it in her butt. She was so angry, but she wouldn’t make a sound until he pushed his knot in. Then she screamed.” Stiles sat beside Scott and said nothing as his friend cried. “We had to wait till his knot went down, and he still tried to bite her through the muzzle.”

“What did the handler do?”

“Her handler was this weirdly cold lady. Her name was Jennifer and she was really pretty in a ‘Hot for Teacher’ kind of way, but too well-dressed for this work.” Scott wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked disgusted. “She didn’t make a sound, she just watched. While they were…tied, Deaton went to get a syringe and drew some blood from Kali. Jennifer showed emotion then, she got angry and tried to stop him; said he didn’t have permission.”

“Yeah, some weird law about how we’re not supposed to administer medical care unless they ask for it,” Stiles said.

“Deaton just gave her this look while he drew her blood, total dead-eye stare. She backed off and didn’t say another word.”

“At least she’s gone.”

“I’ve never seen Lydia so upset,” Scott said. “She wasn’t in the room, but everyone could hear the…the screaming. Afterwards, Deaton wouldn’t let her off the bench until she was sedated, so we had to wheel her out, and anyone could see how bad it was. Jennifer shrugged the whole thing off and said it was what she’d deserved for being so ‘ornery’.” Scott looked like he might vomit. “Jennifer declined Deaton’s offer to try insemination. He offered to do it for free, and said they’d paid the stud fee, and even though their female caused the problem, he’d still do it to try to keep her alive.”

Stiles knew it happened far too frequently with commercial farms. Few of them put Weres ‘out to pasture’, they put them under it.

“Jennifer declined, said she’d wasted enough time on Kali, and then she saw Derek and started acting all sweet. She asked how much we wanted for him. She wanted to buy him because he was ‘so beautiful’. Deaton said no. She made some comment about how she could note a hundred things about the farm that would put us out of business.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing, but I think the farm she works for is really rich, and they could probably cause problems if she made false accusations.”

“Do you think she’ll do it?”

“No, Deaton gave her that funny little smile of his, and asked her something about the blood test. It was too quiet to hear, but then Jennifer got this nasty look on her face. It was like she went from being pretty to ugly in a second. Then she smiled and told Deaton to do what he wanted with Kali, because she’d be dead when she got back to Los Angeles. She walked out and drove off. Just left her there, like she was worthless.”

“What did he do?”

“He drew a bunch of vials of blood. Probably got more than two pints and used up every test tube we had. I don’t know why, but he put them in a locked refrigerator. It’s too late for Kali, but I think he’s going to try and prove that they bred her out of season.”

“Too late?”

“We had to put her down. Deaton said she attacked violently when all of her instincts should have been to submit. He said her desire to lash out was much stronger than her instinct to survive, and that it showed she was too far gone to save without putting everyone at risk.”

“Why would they do it?” Stiles asked. “Why pay the stud fee if they knew she couldn’t be bred?”

“I don't know. We did it after everyone went home so they wouldn’t be upset when we took her out. Even though Lydia wasn’t in the room, she screamed so loud we could hear her from the office.” Scott looked at the empty bottle and Stiles went to get another one. His friend took a big swig and silently accepted the bottle of vodka that Stiles handed him. “I’m so angry. Ennis was doing great, really coming along, and now this happened.”

“They’re monsters,” Stiles said. “Kali’s owners.”

“Ennis’s too.”

Scott ended up drinking heavily enough that he slept over. Stiles was glad the young vet didn’t know that Weres were far more human in their potential than most people believed. It would have broken his heart to know. Stiles left Scott sleeping in his bed and drove over to the shelter. It was the night before Deaton’s trip, and he knew the vet would be up late. He sent Deaton a text to let him know he was stopping by and the vet answered that it was fine. He let himself in the side door of the clinic attached to the house. He walked into the kitchen and saw a small, neat bag beside the door with a carefully labeled address tag on it. Deaton sat at his kitchen table with a mug in front of him.

“Scott’s sleeping at my place, he’ll be in rough shape tomorrow, but I can cover his morning if necessary.” 

“Thank you, Stiles. That’s very kind.”

“How do you…?” He paused before he continued to speak. Deaton had been a mentor to him since he’d been an eight-year-old boy, nearly blinded by grief. The man had seldom minded answering the endless questions blurted without a thought. Tonight he held back.

“How do I do it?” Deaton finished with his small smile.

“I’m sorry, that was really insensitive. I don’t think before I talk.”

“I see the very best and the very worst of human behavior. I suspect your father sees something similar in his work. We do what we do because in the end it matters that _someone_ is trying. _Someone_ isn’t giving up.”

“Knowing what I know now. I’m caught between selfishly wishing for ignorance, and wishing I’d known sooner.”

“It’s normal to feel that. If you had no compassion, you’d be terrible at your job.” Deaton lifted his mug and Stiles noticed that his hand shook slightly. As the vet breathed out after taking a sip, he recognized the odor of whiskey. “Compassion is good, empathy can be too much. Today, it was too much for Scott. He did what we had to do, in spite of it.”

“Why is empathy a bad thing?”

“Picture a river,” he said. “The water is made up of the feelings and experiences of the people around you. Sometimes it can be tremendous joy.” He glanced at the soft, yellow onesie that was folded on the table. “Other times it can be crippling grief, or hopelessness. It can be depression, rage, or fear and that can be just as infectious. You might have someone snap at you because they’ve just been fired, or because their car won’t start, or because they’ve just lost a child.”

“I’m probably pretty likely to snap back,” Stiles said.

“Maybe they act the way they do because they take pleasure in effecting other people and making them as miserable as they feel. Maybe it’s the last straw in a bunch of events that aren't under their control. You can get swept away with them and let their mood change yours, or you can be a rock in the stream and let it flow around you.”

“So you don’t let what happens effect you?” Stiles glanced at the mug.

“I remember what my long-term goals are, and that getting too emotional about what’s happening to others will only drag me farther away from them.”

“Why take all the blood?” Stiles asked.

“Partially to run the fertility test on Kali, and partially because I suspect she was once like Peter and Derek, and even Ennis.”

“What makes you think it?”

“Weres who weren’t raised as humans don’t have higher learning. They think and they reason, but their goals are instinctive. Kali’s were not; she behaved like a human prisoner of war. True wild Weres are relatively easy to train because we understand their instincts. Weres that were raised as human are so uncontrollable, I believe, because they lost some, but not all of their humanity.”

“That makes so much sense.” Stiles leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “How widely spread is this?” he asked.

“That’s why I’m drinking whiskey,” Deaton said with a sigh. “Things suddenly got so much more dangerous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warnings for depiction of coerced sex between Weres and violent sexual assault between Weres. Violence described by a third party.**


	15. Eureka!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I couldn't let this wait until tomorrow.

Thanksgiving ended up being pretty fun for Stiles. He went to the McCall house several hours early and helped Melissa prepare the meal. He stayed firmly in ‘side-dish’ territory while she handled the bird. He chatted with her about anything that wasn’t work-related, and they took several breaks between basting to watch cats being jerks. He remembered Deaton’s advice and kept the vision of himself as a rock in the stream when Melissa complained about her mechanic trying to screw her over. He also followed his boss’s example and drank some whiskey just before Scott arrived from the shelter and poured his friend one as well. Scott had stayed overnight at Deaton’s and fed the Weres breakfast and lunch before going to his mom’s place for dinner. Stiles was heading over for the dinner through breakfast shift. The shelter was occasionally unsupervised during the night when Deaton got an emergency call, or was gone, but after the break-in, none of the employees felt comfortable doing it for long.

Stiles heaped an aluminum pan with turkey, potatoes, gravy and all the sides, and then he filled a second one and bade his father, Melissa and Scott goodnight. He slowed his jeep and stopped beside the Sheriff’s department cruiser and waited for Jordan to roll down his window.

“Thanks for hanging out here,” he said.

“I had to post someplace,” Jordan said with a shrug.

“I brought you a plate, it’s still warm, but if you’re not ready to eat yet, I can stick it in the fridge and heat it up for you later.” He tilted his head to the side. “If you _are_ ready to eat, come on up to the house if you want.”

“Thanks.”

Jordan ate quickly in the kitchen, and gratefully accepted a refill of coffee in his travel mug and wished the younger man a happy Thanksgiving. Stiles fed the Weres from the pre-chopped meat and vegetables they kept in the industrial-sized stable refrigerator. He doubled the protein for the Alphas and brought them their treats. Key lime pie for Boyd, pecan pie for Ennis, a pear-raspberry tart for Derek, and a slice of apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese for Peter. He sat on one end of the long bench, using an old sweatshirt as a cushion and started reading Harry Potter out loud. It took two hours before Peter eventually laid his head in Stiles’s lap. Ignoring the greasy tangles, Stiles stroked the Alpha’s hair and carefully fed him small pieces of pie until it was gone. He knew the Were hadn’t been sleeping well because he’d had bags under his eyes for over a week.

When his throat became dry, Stiles put the book down and rubbed the shoulder and arm closest to him. He pressed his head back against the stall wall and closed his eyes.

“What were you like, Peter?” He thought about the photos of the man Peter had been; the man who loved babies and tolerated everyone else, and the man who seduced Chris Argent-Stiles couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. “Are you still in there somewhere?”

The text notification woke Stiles and he opened his eyes. The barn was dimly lit, and he reached into his pocket for his phone. He’d gotten a ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ text from Erica, complete with an animated turkey. He’d fallen asleep in Peter’s stall, something he should never do. He sat up and removed Peter’s arm from his waist, because the Were had been spooning him. The Alpha made a sleepy noise and pushed his erection against Stiles’s thigh. It was the first one he’d had all week, and the human reached down, automatically. He gave a few soft tugs, expecting the Alpha to wake at any moment.

 _This is the most careless thing I’ve ever done._ Stiles then reminded himself about all of the careless things he’d done the night of the break-in and cut himself some slack. Peter let out a soft moan and his leg started to hitch up. The human lay back down on the bench, allowing the Were to fumble a hand up to grasp Stiles’s shoulder. He didn’t have any lube so he spit in his hand and used it to slick his grip. Peter moaned and pushed into the caress. His top leg was up on Stiles’s hip and he rolled his hips forward.

“You like that?” the Omega whispered, tightening his grip. He ran a thumb over the weeping slit and watched the Were’s face as he moaned and gasped. It was different than his usual growls and purrs, it was more…human. “You want me to keep going?” he asked, loosening his grip. He saw Peter give a quick nod. “Is that a yes?” He heard another moan and quickened his pace again. “Come on, tell me you want it,” he said, lowering his voice. “Say it, Peter!”

“Yesss!” The Were groaned as he came, spilling over Stiles’s hand and spurting over his clothes.


	16. Can I keep the receipt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few new surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and re-wrote this a lot, and opted to just jump right into the action.

Peter hadn’t spoken again and didn’t seem to remember the incident. Deaton had returned a little disappointed by the information he’d received on the feral Were who’d recovered. He said that the Were wasn’t able to remember much if any of the time he’d been feral, but that he only came back to himself when his wife of five years went into heat. The event had been traumatic for both spouses, but they were working through it. It made Deaton even more convinced that until the toxin’s effects could be reversed, their only hope was to make a breakthrough of the mind. There was still hope.

“The wolf reacts differently than the man does,” Chris said as he drove Stiles back from Deaton’s. “Everything is more intense. We’d already had an intimate connection, and a long-term familiarity, if not friendship, so it made everything so much more intense when you came to the firing range.”

“I was paranoid that other people could tell,” Stiles said, rubbing his hand over his face. “I didn’t know you had a super nose.”

“And I damned near gave myself away,” Chris replied. “That was the wolf being possessive and jealous of a partner who smelled like he wanted to mate.”

“Jealous?”

“Even if they don’t realize it, humans can still detect pheromones, and you’d have been pretty appealing. I made you leave with me so you wouldn’t see a younger, stronger-looking mate.” He rolled his eyes. “I feel like an idiot when it happens.”

“Is it hard to control?”

“Sometimes, but no more than a human who’s insecure. I was that way with Victoria sometimes when we were younger.”

“So, with the married couple…”

“His connection to his wife is a long-term thing. Her heat would’ve triggered the wolf’s instincts, but something about their bond grounds the wolf; anchors him, and she made him human.” He frowned. “Peter and I hadn’t been involved long before the fire, much less before he came back. I tried to get through to him, but he was one of the worst I’d seen.”

“What about the others?”

“Duke was shipped here, and I only spoke to his handler once,” Chris said. “Deaton made the arrangements and he’s clearly not feral. I think Deaton knew Ennis a long time ago, and when he came across him, he wanted to help. The rest is true about him being used as a pit fighter; he just wasn’t raised that way.” He pulled into his driveway where Stiles had parked and invited him in to continue their talk. “I tracked Peter six years ago and Derek four years later. Boyd’s always been an enigma, the people who had him never answered any questions, so I don’t know where he came from.”

“Did anyone ever run his prints?” Stiles asked. Chris blinked a few times. “Nobody thought to check and see if he was in the system somewhere?”

“Weres don’t usually get printed.”

“Some do,” said Stiles. “If he’d been present for any criminal activity, he might’ve been printed for elimination.” He thought about it. “I should probably figure out a way to ask my dad.”

“I can do it.”

“Okay.” They were silent as they stood in Chris’s kitchen together and Chris went to the bar and held up a glass. “Yeah, thanks. Whatever you’re having.” Chris returned and handed him a glass. “So, what kind of music did Peter like? I thought about setting up some speakers and playing music. Did you know anything about Derek when he was younger?”

“Peter liked new wave music, I’m more of a classic rock kind of guy so it wasn’t too bad when we were together. Derek liked contemporary alternative rock, but he had a few indie bands he followed. I don’t think I remember which ones, but I’ll give it a shot.”

“What other things did they like?”

“Derek was crazy about his Dad’s Camaro when they were younger, and I think he might’ve had one after the fire. He was a good kid, maybe a bit arrogant for a while, but when I saw him later, he was really pensive. Laura was like that too. She was the Pack Alpha, she held them together, but Peter took all the action. That’s what he did.”

“You said he was the left hand.”

“They’re not like the mafia or anything, but they kept very dangerous secrets. Peter was the one who had the responsibility of investigating threats and eliminating them. He didn’t just kill indiscriminately, he also researched other packs, did background checks, kept in touch with sources in law enforcement. He averted crises.”

“What happened to Laura?”

“She died while we were trying to save Peter.”

“You said that you stayed away because you didn’t want him to remember once he came to Deaton’s.” Stiles sipped the drink, it was bourbon. “He killed Laura, didn’t he?”

“Laura was smart and very powerful, but Peter’s always been on another level when it comes to fighting. She wasn’t strong enough to hold him without killing him, and she wouldn’t kill him.” He sighed. “He became the Pack Alpha, even though he was feral.”

“You think he wouldn’t want to come back because of it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him to come back?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We need to find the source. And we need to find it before the FBI stumbles into something we don’t want them to find.”

“What do you mean?” 

“We need to focus on finding out who’s doing the poisoning and who had Derek. We’re crippled without that, and the biggest danger is to you, because of what the toxin can do to you.”

“We’ve been trying,” Chris said.

“Now you have some help, and a new perspective can’t hurt, right?”

“You can be hurt.”

“I’m not a pedestrian in this.” Stiles’s voice was firm. “And you need to stop assuming you’re safe as long as you keep pretending everything’s fine.”

“Can this wait until after the holiday open house?” Chris asked. “I’m going to have a lot of people coming in and out of the house over the next two weeks, and some extended family and friends may be staying here. I can’t get into this while they’re here.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, and took another mouthful of the bourbon. “This is really smooth,” he said and looked at Chris. The man was leaning back against his desk with his own glass in hand. “So, can you even get drunk?”

“Not easily; it takes dedication.”

“Can you get fat?” Chris laughed when he asked. “I mean, you don’t look like a teenager anymore, so you age fairly normally-and quite well.”

“Thanks. And I think we can get fat, but like getting drunk, it takes dedication. Our metabolic systems are really efficient.”

“Would you have been able to get into the barn before that guy opened the door?”

“No, and I was furious.” Chris reached for Stiles and pulled him close. “You were locked in there and I couldn’t get in to help you.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at following directions.”

“Let’s test that.”

Stiles nearly overslept the next morning, but Chris woke him with coffee and a blowjob, and it made the deep aching throb in his ass a little easier to bear. He also showed a unique talent of drawing pain just before Stiles got in his Jeep to leave for work. It lasted long enough for the aspirin to kick in, so he managed to have a good day. He’d blown Chris in the shower and like the previous blowjob during his concussion, found that his recovery was much faster.

The week leading up to Christmas was busy, but unfortunately the shelter didn’t do a lot of adoptions. Erica had started fostering Boyd, however and they all celebrated the win. Peter was still a bit moody, but Stiles had given him extra care and the Alpha was coaxed out of his funk into something resembling his normal routine-albeit with less enthusiasm- by December twenty-second. That was the day that Marin went into premature labor. At thirty-six weeks, her chances were far better than they had been when she’d been admitted to the hospital the previous week.

Stiles knew Deaton had been concerned and when his boss got the call from his sister, Scott drove him to the airport. They’d had a plan in place since the previous week: Chris, Jordan and the Sheriff all agreed to help keep an extra eye on the place, and the senior staff had the shifts sorted out so there was no night when the shelter would be left unsupervised. 

Agent McCall had found no money trail connecting the dead intruders to anyone, but they had some strong leads. The press had run a story on the shelter after the break-in, but it was favorably spun online with people questioning what the men expected when they’d broken into a barn with feral Alphas. His own role in it had been luckily reduced to the last line of the article which had read, _“One staff member had been present at the time and was not injured in the attack.”_

Agent McCall stopped by the shelter with Jones and spoke with Scott and Stiles. Jones was very pleased to meet Lydia, of course, and they looked over the facility. Stiles gave Jones a neutralizing suit and brought him to the Alpha barn.

“If the doors are open, they can pass through,” he explained. “We use restraints made of mountain ash wood, and it definitely dampers their ability to cause trouble, but it doesn’t hurt them.” Jones seemed interested in Peter and eagerly agreed when Stiles offered to take him to the exercise area. Lydia brought Derek along and the humans remained on either side of Jones while he watched the Weres interact. They were both subdued, and both of them kept giving Jones the stink-eye.

“Derek’s been a little moody since the break-in,” Lydia said. “Peter too.”

“Peter got out afterwards, right?” Jones looked at Stiles when he asked. “How did you catch him?”

“I let him catch me,” Stiles replied. “I’m not a tracker like the other two, but I’m his handler, and he knows me. So, I made plenty of noise, waited till he came over and then hung out with him.”

“How did you get the concussion?”

“Hanging out with him. I played with him, but he was pretty over stimulated with the break-in and wanted to get more energy out. I wasn’t dressed for the terrain, so I fell and hit my head on a rock.”

“He sounds like a handful.”

“He deserves the effort.” Stiles wasn’t sure why his comment came out like that.

Jones had questions for Lydia after that and about their process and profits. She took him with her, and Stiles went back to Peter.

Jones asked Lydia a few questions about how they marketed the product, bottled it and tested it for efficacy. He also asked how members of the public would have heard about Isaac. Lydia answered Jones’s questions about their operation, but when it came to Isaac, she told him what they all had.

“He’s really sweet with everyone, and they know him, but only senior staff have access to his room, and no one handles him without one of us.” She tiled her head to the side. “I can show you his room.” She took the agent along to the quarantine room that was the farthest from the hall. Isaac was pleased to see her, but Jones stayed outside the room. Lydia brought her unfinished coffee which she let him ‘sneak’ away from her. She sat with him and cuddled for a few minutes and then returned to escort Jones to the door. They walked outside to the dark blue sedan he drove.

“Thank you, Miss Martin.” Jones put out his hand and Lydia shook it, firmly. She took a photo of the license plate and went back inside. She called Jackson’s apartment and he answered on the third ring.

“Whittemore residence, Jackson speaking.”

“Hey, are you free today?”

“Yeah, do you need something?”

“Mrs. Johnson on the first floor is having trouble with her windows, can you see if you can help her? And Clarence in 3A has a leaky faucet. I have those maintenance slips for you. Fill them out with the work you do and put them on the bulletin board.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, keep your eye out for the car I’m sending you a photo of. And let me know if you’ve seen any others parked in the area.”

“I’ll send you the pictures.”

“Of what?”

“The cars. Ethan and Aiden noticed one before thanksgiving. I’ve been keeping track.” He paused, sounding uncertain. “I didn’t want to worry you, but they seem like they know more about us.”

“Wait, are they…like you?”

“Yeah, didn’t I mention it?”

“No. Jackson that’s…”

“Bad?” He sounded really disappointed.

“I hope not. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve met others like you, but what did you tell them about me?” she asked.

“Nothing, just that you’re my landlord and …you’re helping me get paperwork.” He heard her soft intake of breath. “Oh. I guess that was probably not a great idea. Um. Sorry.” He paused. “They have jobs though, so they have some kind of I.D. They were actually asking about the apartment down the hall, and wanted to know when it’s going to be for rent.”

“It needs work,” Lydia said, automatically. “We’ll talk tonight when the shelter closes. Yes, please send me the pictures.”

~

Scott came rushing to get Lydia just after Stiles left in the afternoon. He was going to be taking the overnight shift, so he was leaving for a few hours to get errands done and pick up clothes and personal items. She followed him back to the barn where Peter lay on his side in his stall.

“Help me get him into the clinic,” the young vet said. “I sent Stiles a message, but we can’t wait for him, I think he’s been poisoned!”

Peter was taking slow, shallow breaths and his skin was clammy. Lydia snapped mountain ash restraints on his wrists and double-checked his collar before helping Scott hoist him onto his shoulder.

“Don’t give yourself an asthma attack,” she warned and went to get the emergency kit as Scott carried the Alpha to the clinic doors. As she passed by Duke’s stall, she felt a firm hand grip her shoulder. She glanced up quickly, surprised that the blind Were had reached through the bars to touch her. His face was serious, and his red-rimmed irises were fixed on her like he could see her. “It’s okay, Duke. We’re helping him.” He squeezed again when she started to pull away and she saw genuine worry etched in his sharp features. The barest shake of his head sent alarm bells clanging in her head.

“Lydia, hurry.”

Lydia pulled away from the Were and dashed up the steps to the clinic. She swiped her card and opened the door in time to hear Scott yell. Peter fell back on the table and Scott backed up towards her with his hand covering his side. She pushed him aside and lunged forward with the injector pointed at his neck. Peter caught her wrist easily and pulled her forward, unhindered by the collar that lay on the floor. His fangs were long and distended and he sank them into her forearm as she pressed the second injector into his thigh and pulled the trigger. Once he was down, Scott used all of the mountain ash-infused leather straps to secure him to the table.

“Why didn’t it work?” Lydia hissed as she used her one good hand to strap his chest and neck down. “The wooden cuffs should’ve prevented him from harming us.”

“I don’t know,” Scott said, snapping the last leg restraint into place. He shoved Lydia into a chair and went to the sink. He was wheezing slightly as he quickly scrubbed his own blood off his hands before pulled his emergency inhaler out of his pocket. He took a quick hit off it, and then snapped on a pair of gloves. Lydia already had her sleeve pushed up and was pressing down on the inside of her forearm, just below the crease of her elbow where the major veins and arteries were. The bite was deep with four clean punctures, two on each side, but no tearing.

“I think it glanced off the ulna,” she said, “it doesn’t feel broken.”

“You’ll still need an x-ray,” Scott said, placing an emesis basin on the counter behind her and pouring saline over the bite. He squeezed, gently, letting it bleed a little before covering it with gauze. When his hands started to shake, Lydia stood up and helped him remove his shirt.

“Can you breathe okay?”

“Yes.” She cleaned and bandaged the bite and then they looked at each other. “We have to call the Sheriff and Were control.” Scott looked upset.

“Wait till Stiles gets here,” Lydia said. Scott nodded and pushed himself up. “Where are you going?”

“Feeding the stable Weres. Don’t want anyone they don’t know to be in there.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was my fault, I shouldn’t have tried to get him to the clinic short-handed.” He looked at Peter. “Maybe it’ll help.”

“Why did he do it?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

“I don’t know but go to the office and keep trying Stiles on his phone.” He left and Lydia stood up, looking at Peter again before she returned to the barn. Her vision was starting to blur but she pulled up Stiles’s number and called him as she tottered towards the office.

“Stiles, it’s Lydia. You need to get back here. Scott and I both got bitten by Peter. Nobody else is here, we need you to come.” A wave of dizziness washed over her. “He’s restrained in the clinic, but the mountain ash cuffs aren’t working, and he got the collar off again. I gave him almost double the dose of tranquilizer, but I have a feeling it won’t work for long.” She hung up and fell forward onto her knees. There was a rushing sound and she had tunnel vision, but she could faintly hear Derek whining beside her. She fell onto her side and saw him, crouched down, eye-level with her. He carefully reached through the bars until their fingertips brushed. He left them there, just touching her gently until she heard the creak of metal hinges.

A quick shot of adrenaline cleared the fog from Lydia’s brain as her instincts told her that it was the sound of a stall door opening. _No!_ She knew they couldn’t get out, but then Derek was turning and growling at someone. Her vision went dark around the edges and she closed her eyes as she heard an unfamiliar voice.

“This is certainly an interesting turn of events.”

Lydia felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and a pair of arms turning her over and lifting her up. Derek was growling, but the voice admonished him. “Look at you, snarling over your jailer like that. Poor little thing. Your mother would be ashamed of you.”


	17. Revelations and suggestions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Too much to summarize, but read the notes for trigger warnings.**

When a Were bites a human, it’s nearly always a death sentence for the Were. Peter had been spared after killing the intruders because of the circumstances. Stiles didn’t think he could get Parrish or his father to make an exception again. He called Chris who didn’t pick up, and then called Deaton.

“Peter bit Scott and Lydia,” he said. “Chris told me he’s the Hale’s Pack Alpha, does that mean they’ll turn?” He was sitting in his jeep in the parking lot.

“What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure, Scott seems okay, but Lydia fainted.”

“The bite from a Pack Alpha doesn’t always turn someone. It can also kill them. Let’s hope that Peter’s power’s diminished enough that it’s just a regular bite.”

“Okay.”

“Stiles, if either bite starts to ooze black fluid, you need to tell me.”

“Okay.”

“Stiles, I’ll ask your father and Jordan to hold off on taking action until I can return. Until then, Peter needs to stay in his stall. Don’t try to move him until you have enough people to do it safely.”

“Okay.”

Stiles went back inside and called Parrish first. He sat with Lydia and Scott who were in the office. Scott looked okay, but Lydia looked green.

“I guess I fainted,” she said.

“You managed to do it in the office with your jacket over you,” Stiles joked. When she gave him a confused look he turned to Scott. “Did you put the coat over her?”

“No, she’d kill me if I got blood on it.” Scott narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got dirt and straw on your clothes, like you were on the floor in the barn.”

“I can’t remember much,” she said. “Maybe I fell twice.”

“Hey, Parrish, are you free? We’ve had an incident over here.” Stiles turned away from his friends when the WCO picked up. “Can you come by? I’d rather explain it in person.” Stiles felt his phone buzz and looked down. “Chris is on his way over. Once they’re here, one can take you two to the hospital, and the other might be willing to help me get Peter back in his stall.”

“I’m feeling okay,” Scott said. “I can do it.”

“No, we’re doing this the right way. Not the quick way.” He knew Scott blamed himself for what had happened, and it was likely his lack of caution that had allowed it, but if he'd had a Were with poor vitals, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same thing. “I get why you were worried, and we’re short-handed so I understand not wanting to wait, but I’m not taking chances again.”

Jordan arrived and when he realized what had happened, his first question surprised Stiles.

“Was Peter a Pack Alpha?”

“We don’t know too much about his history," Scott said. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s a behavior thing,” Jordan said. “I’m trying to get an idea for what happened and what might’ve motivated the aggression.” He turned to Lydia. “We need to get you two to the hospital to get checked out.”

“Peter’s still in the clinic, do you have equipment with you?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah.”

“Chris is on his way; I’d like to wait until he’s here to move Peter.”

Lydia let Jordan look at the bite to her arm. Scott let Stiles look at his. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Less than an hour,” Scott said, trying to look down. “Why does it look bad?”

“No.”

Chris arrived and carefully moved Peter from the clinic to his stall. Stiles made sure all doors were held open for him as the two men carried the muzzled Alpha to his stall. They locked him in, and Jordan drove Scott and Lydia to express care. Once he was gone, Chris and Stiles went back to the stall.

“I think he’s trying to build a pack,” Chris said. “He failed to secure his mate, he was depressed, but now he’s making himself a stronger candidate.”

“Oh, Peter.” The Were lay limply on his bench. “Why didn’t the mountain ash cuffs work?”

“Intent,” Chris said. “They dampen the ability to _harm_ , but Peter wasn’t intending to harm them. He was giving them a gift. Welcoming them into his pack.”

“A gift?”

“The Hales believed the bite was a gift. It saved _my_ life, it’s saved others.” Chris shrugged. “With mountain ash, intent is everything.” He sighed. “Quit faking, asshole. I know you’re awake.” He turned and picked up an apple from the bench beside the stall and threw it at the Alpha’s face. Peter caught it and brought it to his face. He sniffed it carefully and then took a bite. He stood up, slowly and approached the bars. “Peter?” He looked at the Were who looked a bit more hostile than usual. He kept his eyes on the hunter and didn’t glance at Stiles.

“You might’ve signed your death warrant,” Stiles said, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know if we can stop Jordan from ordering you be put down.” He looked at Chris. “Can we smuggle him out of here? Can we say you shot him trying to escape and tell everyone he’s dead?”

“It won’t be easy if we can’t produce a body. The state usually examines the body later.”

“Maybe I can convince my dad to waive it.”

“It’s not up to him,” Chris said. “It’s up to Parrish.”

“What can I do?” Stiles asked. “I can’t let them kill him.”

“You can’t tell anyone the truth. It’s too big a secret, you’ll be putting yourself and others’ lives in danger. It will throw suspicion on a lot of people, and anyone who’s had a bite will suddenly find themselves getting mountain ash thrown at them.”

“At you, you mean?”

“Pretty much, yeah. But I’m not the only one.”

“How many are around?”

“A few. We steer clear of each other if we don’t know each other’s packs. I can’t always tell who’s been bitten versus a born Were.”

“How many are in town? Are there any we can ask for help?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “But I can try to get help.” He looked at Stiles imploringly and the younger man nodded.

~

Lydia let Jordan steer her to an exam room, she had a feeling that she and Scott were given preferential treatment due to the police escort. Jordan had been on-duty as a deputy when he’d been called. During the holidays he tended to pick up extra shifts and Lydia was grateful for his presence. Scott was in a separate room, and Melissa McCall had been waiting for him.

“You don’t look good,” Jordan said, running a hand over Lydia’s hair. “You look paler than usual.” She blinked at him slowly. “Lydia, can you answer me?” He waved a hand in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She tugged on her ear.

“Mother would be ashamed,” she said in a soft voice; her round, green eyes were unfocused. “Poor…little…thing.”

Scott was half-listening to his mother when he heard a voice whispering. He put up a hand to pause his mother’s lecture and listened. Quietly, he whispered along with it.

“Poor…little…thing.” He looked at his mother, curiously. “What is that?” And then he heard Jordan’s voice.

“Code Blue, she’s crashing!”

Scott pushed past his mother and ran into the hall. Parrish tried to block him, but he fought the bigger man. “Don’t, you can’t help her. You have to stay back, Scott.” He wasn’t as strong as the deputy, but he could feel it. A strength under his skin, like it was burning and trying to get out.

“Lydia!” he shouted.

~

Peter howled, making the hair on the back of Stiles’s neck rise. He was in the parking lot with Chris who froze.

“What is it?”

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Stay here, don’t let anyone but your dad, Parrish or Scott come through these gates. I don’t care if it’s the President.”

“I wouldn’t let him in anyway, he didn't want to give them legal protections,” Stiles joked. “Chris what is it?”

“He can feel them,” Chris whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

“With who?”

“His Pack.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to get to the hospital. It’s too close to a full moon, and they might be unstable.” He gripped Stiles’s arms and gave him a shake. “I need to get to Scott and Lydia; call your father, he’ll know what to do.”

“My dad?”

“Do it. I have to go.”

Chris tore out of the shelter parking lot and Stiles secured the gate behind him. He knew that sometimes humans had bad reactions to Were bites. Stiles went back into the barn and looked at his phone. He sent his father a text asking for a call. He looked at Peter who was looking upward, as if he could see through the roof to where the moon shone down.

“If they die because of you,” Stiles said, walking to the front of the stall. He didn’t finish the threat, unable to say the words that were on his mind. He paced the row, ignoring the Weres, lost in his own thoughts until something shiny caught his eye. He couldn’t see it clearly, but it looked like something metal. “Easy, there.” He opened the stall carefully and knelt down on the floor. He reached for it and picked up a small, gold hoop. “This is Lydia’s,” he said to himself. He looked at the Were sitting on his bench with one ankle resting on the opposite knee. Duke stared back at him with unseeing eyes. “This whole time,” he said, dropping the earring. He shook his head and backed away from the one Were who never wore a collar, and who was able to think so far ahead that he could anticipate their actions.

“I can’t blame you for not guessing,” Duke said, standing up slowly. He had a deep, rich voice and a clipped, British accent.

“You even sound like a supervillain,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not the villain in this,” he said as he took a step towards Stiles. His nudity was suddenly so noticeable when he stood up straight and tall. “I’m not the one who’s enslaved an entire race.” His face started to shift, and Stiles fought the urge to turn and run. He had a mountain ash belt and wooden cuffs on his own wrists. He wasn’t going to win this fight, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down swinging.

“What is Peter doing?” he asked.

“You and your friend almost have it correct,” Duke said as his face shifted into something monstrous. “His humanity is fighting its way out, but not the way you think.”

Stiles snapped the chain on the necklace he wore, jumped back to the corner of the stall where the door was, and let the chain slither into a straight line. He held himself still, trying not to touch the bars himself as Duke approached him. He pulled out his card, lifted it carefully and twisted his arm to reach the lock. It popped open and he backed through it, snapping it closed behind him.

“Tell me how to save Peter, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Out?” he smiled, and it was gruesome. “I went to all the trouble of getting myself put in here. Why would I want to get out?”

“Why are you here?”

“I want the same thing you do, Stiles, but we’re running out of time. If Peter hadn’t run out of patience, he’d have probably managed it himself in a few more months, but now I can’t wait any longer.” He paused and nodded to Stiles’s hands. “You should cover your ears.”

Duke howled and it shook the barn so hard that Stiles could smell the dirt that had been dislodged from the old beams. Stiles’s ears were ringing and he was dizzy. He turned around and stumbled back to catch his balance; it was his costliest mistake. He didn’t even feel the long, talon-like claws puncture the back of his neck.

~

Lydia was standing in a house. She could smell smoke and there was ash floating in the air, a photograph sat on the mantle above a fireplace and she moved towards it. She knew he was there with her, in the house, but she wasn’t ready to see him yet. She went to the mantle and looked at the picture. A woman with her three children stared back, and the only boy stared back at her with a smile that looked over-sized along with his ears and eyebrows. She didn’t know the smile, but she knew the eyes and the brows. There were no other photographs, but not from lack of vanity. No, she knew him too well for that.

“I’m not doing it,” Lydia said when she heard the stairs creak. Peter was barefoot but wore jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket over it. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair was wavy and brushed back from his forehead. “I don’t even think I could if I tried.”

“I didn’t know what you were, sweet girl.” He went to her, walking quickly and smoothly, taking her by the arms in a way that indicated familiarity. “Consciously, I didn’t know _anything_.” He gave her a sad look. “I never would have guessed about Jackson. You taught him to read?”

“I was too young to know that Weres can’t learn. I taught him so he could read to me after my parents made me turn off the lights. I knew they could see in the dark.”

“That’s so wonderful.” Peter looked genuinely fascinated. “The minds and imaginations of children come up with the most amazing things.”

“You’re related to Derek.”

“He’s my nephew. My older, half-sister Talia was his mother. He tilted his head. “What year is it?”

“Almost Christmas, two thousand nineteen.”

“It’s been six years.” He looked upset. “How has it been so long?”

“You’ve been with the shelter that long, what were you doing before that?”

“Hiding from that psychopath.” His lip curled. “I don’t know how she found us.” He released Lydia’s arms and walked away from her. “I need you to do something for me, Lydia.” He stood and looked out a hole in the roof at the moon.

“What?” she didn’t move, but around her she could hear whispers. “What’s happening?”

“You need to go,” Peter said and pointed to the door. “You need to fight, and you need to live. Listen for Scott, and that young man of yours. He’ll show you the way home.”

“Lydia!” She turned as she heard the voice; it sounded like it was coming through the woods. She headed for the door. “Lydia!”

“Here,” she tried to say, but her voice wasn’t working. She was on the porch and the house was empty.

“Open your eyes,” she could hear Jordan’s voice. “I know you can hear me, Lydia. Open your eyes!”

~

_“There it is. That little button inside you, the one you won’t press. The one you keep locked away from everyone. It’s there, and I think we should give it a little nudge. Now, go to your Alpha, and remind him how to be human.”_

Stiles was moving on autopilot. He was stumbling and tripping over himself in his haste. He dropped the cuffs on the barn floor and used the scanner to drop the electrical field on the bars. He opened the stall and walked in, closing it automatically, behind him. He could never leave the stall door open. That was a no-no. He heard the growl and it made his belly clench painfully. He reached out to soothe the Alpha, he was used to doing that because they were always restrained in the milking rooms. His hand made contact with hot skin and he inhaled the warm Alpha pheromones. He teased him a little, thumbing the Were’s nipples and rubbing down his chest and flanks.

“You’re being so good,” Stiles whispered and turned around. He dropped to his knees and began unbuckling his belt. He felt the Alpha’s nose against the seam of his pants and could feel his underwear sticking to him where his slick had leaked out. He got his pants open and pushed them down over his buttocks and down to his thighs. He heard the Were sniffing and felt a warm tongue on his cheek. The Were rumbled soothingly and crooned. _You’re safe. I’ll take care of you._ “Good boy,” he whispered.

Stiles reached back and pulled his cheeks apart, letting his head rest on the floor. The air felt so cool on his slick, hot skin. He closed his eyes as the Alpha scored a direct hit with his tongue. He spread his knees a little, and arched his back, presenting like a Were would. The face pressed closer and he let go of his cheeks, crossing his arms and resting his forehead on them. Over and over the tongue stroked, the Alpha licked at the sticky slick, and lapped at his balls, cleaning them and then poking with the tip of his tongue at the quivering hole.

Stiles scooted back on his hands and knees, feeling the big, sweaty body move over him. He was being mounted properly, and clawed hands gripped his hips, digging in enough to keep him still. He felt the massive erection poke at his thighs and leave a sticky trail as the Alpha rutted against him, too eager to wait. He shushed him gently and reached back, gripping the organ and sliding it up through the fresh slick, pulling one cheek to the side so he could find the right spot.

Peter growled low in his throat when the thick, mushroom head of his cock found the puckered opening and started to push. The pain of claws pricking at his hip sparked something in Stiles and he started to move away; then the world tilted. His legs were lifted until he was almost doing a head stand, with his knees still trapped in his clothes. He felt sweat slicked arms move between them and push his thighs down a broad torso, trapping the Were between his legs, boxed in by his own clothes. He was flattened back to the floor with an impatient Alpha covering him.

The clawed fingers dragged Stiles’s cheeks apart and lifted his hips as he pressed against the Omega’s wet hole and popped the head through the first ring of muscle. A hand pinned the Omega’s head to the floor and then he was pushing inside. Stiles couldn’t breathe. The stretch felt amazing, like finally scratching a deep itch as it filled him so deeply. He was aware of nothing but the buzzing in his head, mind blank and blissful, as the animal on his back rutted into him. He was flat on the floor with his hard dick pressed between his hips and the dirty, wooden floor. The hips spanked his ass with hard, rapid thrusts that went straight down into him. He felt the movement of his whole body as he was rocked, and then the added pressure of a knot being forced in. A hot sliver of pain broke through his foggy brain as the Alpha howled and began to come, massive knot lodged securely inside the Omega.

“Stiles!” Stiles’s senses came back slowly and he heard his name being shouted. It was distant, like though a wall or a door. “Stiles! Answer me!” He knew the voice and tried to lift his head. His shoulders felt heavy, like there was something heavy on top of him, weighing him down. He heard another voice then, one quite close to him.

“You must be Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for non-consensual sex. Stiles is under hypnosis and Peter's not in control of himself.
> 
> I also can't get the formatting consistent. Sorry.


	18. Laaaast Christmas, I gave you my ass! The very next day, you said 'Nah, I'll Pass'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is awake, and wants some answers. Meanwhile...checking in on our two chew toys.

Stiles made a groaning noise and tried to move, but a sharp pain in his ass and a smack to the back of his head kept him still.

“Don’t move, you idiot,” the voice hissed. “But by all means, _do_ feel free to tell me why I’m in a barn that stinks like Alpha spunk, and knotted in some twink Omega’s ass!” The last few words were snarled angrily.

“What’s happening?” Stiles turned away and felt for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Stiles?”

“Chris?” he croaked and then cleared his throat. “Can you hear me?” he called out, a little louder.

“Yes, are you okay?”

“Is anyone with you?”

“No. Open the door.”

“I-I can’t reach it at the moment, can you…give me a few minutes?”

“Christopher?” The voice piped up behind him. “Is that you, Argent?” There was silence for a moment and then behind him, the man chuckled. “This is too precious. Argent, what are you doing here? And what the Hell am _I_ doing here?”

“Peter?”

“Who else?”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Open the door.”

“We’re a bit stuck at the moment, Christopher. Be a dear and give us a chance to get out of this.” He stopped suddenly. “Derek?”

“Peter?” Stiles asked, hardly believing it.

“What?”

“It’s really you?” Stiles tried to turn over but the knot in his ass felt like a grapefruit. “Ow.” He felt the other pair of hips press him firmly into the floor. The knot rolled against his prostate and it made Stiles clench around him involuntarily. Peter groaned and let loose another hot spurt of come. “What did you do?” he hissed.

“Me?” I’ve never seen you before in my life, Kid. How do you know me?”

“Chris, keep everyone out for the next half hour at least. I don’t care if you have to shoot them.” Stiles was filled with fear at the idea of his father finding him stuck on an Alpha Were in the barn where he cared for them. “How long are we stuck like this?” he asked.

“I’ve never knotted an Omega. I think we’ve been here for about ten minutes.” He rolled his hips and let out another spurt of come with a groan. “I think we might be at this for a while.”

“Why?”

“I can barely think with my wolf screaming in my head that I need to get you pregnant.” He sounded disgusted. “Sorry about this, but I’m not waiting for the police to arrive to accuse me of knotting an unwilling minor.”

“I’m twenty-six,” Stiles said, sourly. “And if the Sheriff comes here, that’s the _least_ of your worries.”

“Are you sleeping with him too?”

“He’s my father!”

“I get shot in the woods and wake up knotting the Sheriff’s kid. Marvelous.”

“You’ll need to trust Chris and me for a little while, and then we can get you out-Oh!” He felt the knot press into his prostate again as the Alpha began to rock his hips against his ass. “Ugh, stop it.”

“The faster we both come, the sooner I’ll feel a bit less like taking hostages,” he growled, and rolled them both onto their sides. He locked an arm around Stiles’s throat and held him still while he reached down with the other hand and started jerking him off. “I’m doing this so I don’t rip apart your ass, which is what I _will_ do if the cops arrive before we’re detached. So just try to focus here, okay?” He rolled his hips with little thrusts and jerked Stiles’s dick until the younger man was hard and leaking. “That’s it, little Omega. Come on and be good for your Alpha. You gonna come like a Good Boy?” Stiles’s whole body jerked and he bit down on a moan as his ass clamped down hard on the knot inside him and came with an exquisite pleasure that mixed with pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered as Peter came in his ass like a fire hose. He let out a hoarse cry and clutched the Omega tightly before relaxing. “That’s gonna be a huge mess,” he said, tiredly.

“It worked, though,” Peter panted. “I’m starting to shrink.” He wiggled a little, but it was several more minutes before the knot deflated enough to take out. During that time, Stiles tried to give him the nutshell version of events.

“How long have I been here?”

“Six years,” Stiles replied. “You called Chris for help. When he found you, you were feral; it’s like your humanity was gone. He and Alan Deaton hid you here. This is a shelter that’s secured so nobody can get to you. Only a few people have access, so they hoped to keep you safe while they looked for a cure.”

“Six years.” He sounded distraught. “What about Derek? I can smell him and hear him.”

“Chris found him a few years later in the same condition. We have others here, but I’m not sure what happened to them.” He had a niggling feeling in the back of his head, like he was forgetting something.

“Why did you try this?” Peter asked.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t think I did. You bit two of my co-workers today. I was here by myself. I can’t remember what happened after Chris left to go-” He paused and fumbled for his phone. He dialed Chris’s number and the man picked up. “What happened at the hospital?”

“I was on my way there and I heard another Were howl. I came back.” He paused. “I’ll call Scott.”

“I bit two people?”

“Lydia and Scott, they’re the other two handlers who work here with Deaton.”

Peter was quiet for a moment and Stiles heard his breathing change. He sniffed at the back of Stiles’s neck and then licked it. “Knock it off,” the human said.

“You’ve got punctures in the back of your neck.”

“Did you bite me?”

“No.” He stayed quiet. “Have I been naked for six years?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“How long have I had the beard?”

“Deaton thought it would help with your disguise in case anyone saw you and made the connection that you’re Peter Hale. Besides, bathing you is hazardous enough, shaving you regularly would be a nightmare.”

“I can smell you all over this place,” He said. “Years of it. And why does it smell like all I do here is jerk off?”

“Funny thing about Weres. A few years ago, there was a medical breakthrough regarding male Alpha Weres.”

~

Stiles managed to rinse off in the bathing room and put on a pair of clean scrubs from the clinic. Peter accepted a set and took his own turn with the shower. Stiles bundled up his clothes and stuffed them in the office before he went to the door to let in a very angry-looking Chris Argent.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” Stiles replied. “I remember you leaving, and then it’s just blank until I woke up in Peter’s stall. He doesn’t remember the last six years, apparently.” The water turned off and Peter took his time getting dried off, but eventually walked out in blue scrubs. Chris’s eyes widened as he saw Peter. Peter held his arms out to the sides.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Chris moved past Stiles and approached Peter like he was sleepwalking. Peter moved towards Chris and his arms fell down to his sides. “Look at you,” he whispered. “Has it been six years?” A flash of emotion went Peter’s face. Chris moved in and put his arms around him. After a moment, Peter clutched Chris tightly to him and they stood together. They spoke softly with each other and Chris pressed his hands on the sides of Peter’s face. As a human, with his mind intact, Peter looked nothing like the Were Stiles had been caring for; Weres held themselves differently than humans. He stood with his shoulders back, and head up, hips forward and feet solidly planted. He still had the long hair and shaggy beard, but now that he’d washed, his hair was pushed back from his forehead and standing with his chin level he looked completely human.

“You look like a hipster surgeon,” Stiles said before turning away and going to Derek’s stall. Derek was staring at Peter and Chris with fascination and curiosity. Ennis looked jealous, and Duke looked disinterested. Something tickled at the back of Stiles’s mind and he scratched at his neck, idly. He wanted to give the men privacy, but his ass was still aching from being knotted outside of heat.

“What happened?” Chris’s face was excited and happy, his blue eyes were lit up and Stiles felt compelled to piss on it.

“Christmas miracle,” he said, drily and walked back to the empty stall. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his card with him. For some reason he felt very mistrustful right now, but his brain reminded him it was probably resentment, jealousy, or just his regular Omega shame. He used the flashlight function on his phone to look around at the straw-littered floor. He couldn’t kick the feeling that something was wrong, and that he was forgetting something. He could hear the voices of the other two men and saw that they’d both gone to Derek’s stall.

“We can’t get him out, yet,” Chris was saying. “This is like a safe house for you, and after the break-in, they’ve updated security.”

“There was a break-in?” Stiles didn’t hear the reply, but he could hear Chris’s deep voice speaking quietly. “I killed someone? Two someones?” Then a pause. “Okay, sounds like they deserved it.”

The stall reeked of sex, even to Stiles’s human nose. He was Omega, so his senses were better than most, but still, Chris probably knew what they were doing even when he was outside. He stared at the dark spot on the floor of his own come and tried to remember what had happened. Stiles had already left for the day when the bites happened. He knew how crafty Peter was when he was feral but wasn’t sure if the Alpha had bitten Lydia and Scott because of opportunity or if he’d deliberately waited until Stiles hadn’t been there. Was it because he’d wanted Stiles alone?

“What’s on your mind?” Chris was standing in the doorway to the stall.

“You’re kidding, right?” He kept his eyes down on the floor. He couldn’t see the bigger picture and he knew it was because he was too close. “I’ve lost a chunk of time during which I may have committed a terrible act on a creature that had no concept of consent, and no idea why.”

“I don’t hold it against you,” Peter called out. “Really, I understand why you’re upset-I mean it’s not like you just kissed a frog- but this is definitely one of those times when the ends justified the means.”

“You’re not helping,” Chris snapped.

Stiles wiped his hand over his face.

“I need to clean this up, and I need to come up with some kind of plan.” He looked up at Chris. “Ineed to know if the others are okay.”

“Stiles,” Chris said. Stepping into the stall.

“Just go,” the younger man said. “Take him and go, I’ll get the door.” He stood up and pushed past the hunter.

“Great! I’m starving.” Peter rubbed his hands together. “Thanks, Kid.” Peter went for the door and recoiled when his hand touched the handle.

“Stiles,” Chris put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m not running out of here.” He let Stiles brush his hand off and go to the office.

“Actually, I think running out of here is a fine idea,” Peter said. He was looking nervous, but didn’t approach the Omega, he just looked at Chris. “I’m not keen to resume captivity any time soon.”

“My house is full of hunters right now, Peter.” Chris’s comment stopped the other Were, and he turned back to Stiles. “I don’t have a safe place to put him.” He managed to catch the keys Stiles threw at him.

“He can stay at my place,” Stiles said. “He’s put two people in the hospital, the only two people who can look after this place, so I’m stuck here for a while.”

“Let me find out what’s happening, I’ll check the hospital, get Peter some clothes…and shoes.” He eyed Peter’s outfit. “I’m supposed to be hosting a party, and certain members of my family have been known to get nosy. Protecting Peter is still the priority.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Stiles shoved his feet into his own shoes. “It’s a good plan, but don’t tell any of the Argents about the biting, not even Allison.”

“Should I tell her about Scott?”

“Not if you can avoid it tonight. I don’t want a conversation about this shelter happening anywhere near that pit viper sister.” He didn’t bother to hide his disdain, and Chris noticed. He didn’t protest the term but gave a tight nod. “Stay here, Peter. I know you must be restless, but please, I still don’t know who did this to you.”

“My money’s on your old man,” Peter said. “Is he home for the holidays?”

“Sure is,” Chris said, smiling ruefully. “I’ll find out what’s happening with Lydia and Scott, I’ll call you and then I have to play host, so I won’t be able to pick up my phone.” He hugged Peter and Stiles opened the door for him. Chris pulled him out of the building and along to his truck. Stiles walked in order to avoid being dragged and Chris opened the door to the SUV. “Peter, I’m having a private conversation with Stiles, don’t eavesdrop.” He waited and then rolled his eyes. He turned on the engine and shoved Stiles into the vehicle. He closed the doors and leaned over. “What happened?”

“No idea. I told you the truth.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“We’re not having this conversation.” He got out of the truck but held up a hand when Chris opened his door. “I want you to lay eyes on Lydia and Scott, and then tell me what happened. Then do whatever you need to do in order to keep everyone in your family away from here and away from them.” He waited and Chris nodded, a flash of guilt across his features. Stiles went back to the barn, speaking clearly as he went. “Back away from the door, Peter. I even get a _hint_ that you’re going to make a break for it, and I will fuck your shit up.” He opened the door and saw Peter leaning against the office door, looking innocent.

“In what way, _exactly_ , could any of my ‘shit’ get fucked up by you?” Peter pushed away from the wall lazily and dragged a claw down the wall. “You’re a human, and I’m an Alpha Werewolf. I’m no longer behind bars, and I don’t have any of your silly wooden cuffs on anymore.” Stiles rolled his eyes and walked into the office, picking up his clothes. He saw Peter hesitate and flinch in the doorway before poking at the air. When he wasn’t repelled, his smug expression returned, and he stalked forward. “I’d just like to know why you’re so confident in your abilities, pup.”

“I’m not your _pup_ , Peter. I’m not your _kid_ , and I’m not your Omega either. He stared the Alpha in the face as the Were loomed over him.

“You should probably keep a close watch on me.” He whispered the words with his face inches from the human’s. Stiles bared his own teeth in response.

“I know every inch of you, Peter Hale.” He smiled when the Alpha flinched, he looked the Alpha up and down. “I don’t need to watch you, Peter. I can smell you.”

“Maybe the version of me that was a mindless animal,” he suggested, “but you haven’t seen the real me. Not yet.”

“Right now, we have bigger fish to fry, so you can stay here and hang out with Derek, or you can come up to the house and have dinner.”

“Dinner _after_ the sex. I’ll take it.” Peter turned around and left the office. Stiles picked up his cell phone and send Deaton a text message telling him that Peter was completely coherent and a giant pain in the ass. He also promised to send an update on Scott and Lydia when he could.

Stiles and Peter had just made it inside the house when Deaton called him back.

“Hi,” he said tersely.

“Stiles, are you alright?”

“I’m okay, it’s just been a surreal day.”

“I’m not able to get a flight back tonight, will you be okay?”

“As much as I’d like your help, I don’t really think there’s much you can do right now. Stay with your sister, but if you can think of a plan to cover Peter’s recovery, that would help. Chris Argent is fairly sure that some members of the hunter community are aware that humans can be turned. We need to find a way to keep them away from Scott and Lydia.”

“Okay, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He cleared his throat. “Please put Peter on the phone, I’d like to speak to him for a moment.” Stiles held out the phone and Peter rolled his eyes but took it and held it up to his ear.

“Hello.”

Stiles walked away, not wanting to be the awkward guy watching someone talk on his phone to his boss-probably about him-and potentially getting a shovel talk about not leaving the staff in any kind of mauled state. Peter handed it back.

“Can he stay at your house?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, of course. Help yourselves to the fridge.”

“Thanks. Goodnight. Kiss the baby for me.”

“I will. Goodnight Stiles.”

Stiles hung up the phone and felt calmer. Alan Deaton’s voice seemed to have that effect on people. Peter seemed a little calmer too.

“I don’t mind cooking, if you don’t want to.” Peter’s posture was relaxed as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Buying fresh meat from local butchers meant being on good terms with the local farms; like, getting Christmas cards, and being invited to Bar mitzvas close. Deaton had a lot of fresh meat and vegetables, and Stiles needed to be distracted. He made Peter a sandwich and got started on dinner. Chris called him as he was chopping vegetables.

“Lydia is stable, she had a reaction to something, and her blood pressure dropped so low that her heart stopped. Parrish was with her and they got her stabilized. Scott’s going to be released soon.”

“Is that normal?”

“I’d expect Lydia to be doing far worse if she was having the usual bite rejection. Put me on speaker phone.”

“I can hear you, Christopher.” Peter was on the couch in the living room.

“Can you feel them?”

Peter stood up and strolled into the kitchen, coming closer for Stiles’s benefit. He looked at the phone and rolled his shoulders.

“I can feel _him_. Scott. He’s strong, but I don’t think he’ll have changed before tonight, so he has some time before the next full moon. I can feel the place where Lydia is supposed to be, there’s a blank space like she’s behind a curtain or something.”

“Her heart stopped, would that matter?” Stiles asked.

“I doubt it,” he shrugged. “I don’t know why my wolf chose them. I’m not sure why I can’t remember anything.”

“Parrish promised he’d call you if there’s a change, Stiles.” Chris sounded like he was pulling into his garage. “I managed to convince Scott that he shouldn’t tell Allison about the bite, and that he should keep it to himself as much as possible.”

“Won’t the hospital have records of it?”

“I’m…working on that.”

“I’m getting tired of not knowing who to trust.”

“Better if you don’t trust anyone yet.”

“Great, when you and the rest of the round table get together for your meetings, let me know, huh?” He knew he was irritated, but he’d had a rough day.

“I promise you some answers, but not over the phone.”

Stiles seasoned the vegetables and put them to roast in a pan along with the lamb and rabbit. He used the instant pot he’d bought Deaton the previous Christmas to cook five big russets.

“What is that?”

“It’s a programmable pressure cooker.”

“Any other new inventions since I’ve been out?” Peter asked. “Other than my _essence_ being sold for its health benefits, of course.”

“Pull up the decade in review,” Stiles suggested. He went upstairs to Deaton’s bathroom and helped himself to some aspirin. He undressed while he was up there and looked over his body carefully. There was faint bruising on his hip and a few small punctures where Peter’s claws would have gone. He put the scrubs back on and washed his clothes, when he returned, Peter held out a bag for him.

“Argent,” he said. Chris must’ve made good on his offer to bring clothes for Peter, and since he’d given the man his own apartment keys, the hunter had apparently picked up a few things for Stiles as well. He found the soft, white t-shirt Chris had bought him and put it on as well as a clean pair of jeans and his belt. As he buckled it, another twisting feeling in his gut pinched at him. If Peter had tried to forcibly mate with him like in the woods, it was unlikely that he’d have been able to take Stiles’s belt off. Combined with the minimal bruising or indications of a struggle, Stiles suspected that he’d willingly submitted to the Alpha.

Stiles took out the rabbit and lamb. He carved the rabbit up and made sauce from the fatty drippings with red wine and mashed the potatoes. The carrots had caramelized beautifully with rosemary, and he opted to just microwave some frozen peas.

“Almost ready,” Stiles said, and Peter came in to set the table. He did it like it was routine, and Stiles wondered if he had regularly had dinners with Derek, Cora and Laura.

“This looks great,” Peter said, pouring them each a glass of the red wine. As they were about to serve themselves, the gate alarm went off. Stiles looked at the security feed on his phone and bit his lip, nervously.

“It’s my father,” he said, and then saw a text message he’d missed from Deaton.

“I’ll duck into the pantry,” Peter hissed, irritated.

Stiles opened the door for his father who wore jeans and a flannel shirt. He was carrying a box under one arm and had a very serious expression.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Hale.” Sheriff Stilinski stepped into the house and looked around. “Hale? It’s John Stilinski, Deaton told me you’re awake. I brought you some of your things.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his face looked pained. “Hell, Kiddo. I’m sorry about not telling you.”

“I’m not actually surprised,” Stiles said, waving away his father’s apology. “You investigated the fire, and Chris Argent couldn’t have made all information on the Hales disappear without help from someone.”

“John?” Peter stepped out of the pantry and into view. He looked cautious. “You’re the Sheriff now?” He moved forward when he saw the box. “You were a deputy when the fire happened.” He took the box from John and set it down before holding out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve spoken in more than a decade.”

“Peter,” John said, shaking his hand.

“Did you eat?” Stiles asked and Peter went to get another plate.

John told Peter about having his own revelations and things not making sense until he started looking at Weres differently. Chris Argent, Deaton and John had been working together to keep the secret and try to figure out who’d been targeting the Weres who lived on the grid. He was apologetic about not being able to solve the murders of the Hales, but Peter agreed that keeping them out of the system had been the right decision.

“What brought you out of it?” John asked, and Stiles picked up his plate to go to the kitchen. He didn’t want to have to look his father in the eye.

“I remember running in the woods with Derek and getting shot,” Peter began, “I know I was somewhat aware of time passing, but little else until today. I heard Chris Argent speaking at some point, then I heard your son’s voice and I woke up in my stall. I felt a little disoriented, but I knew who I was.”

“Do you know why you bit Lydia and Scott?” John asked.

“Deaton thinks I ingested something toxic,” Peter said. “I’m told that Lydia and Scott brought me to the clinic and at some point, I woke up there and bit them.” He sounded a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I don’t remember doing any of it, but I think it might’ve opened whatever door was closed in my mind.” Stiles waited, but that was apparently the end of the story and he breathed a small sigh of relief. “Chris warned me that I’ll need to stay hidden for a while.”

“He’s right.” John nodded. “Unfortunately, the WCO is…very fond of Lydia and will be looking closely at you.”

“Can we say I’m dead?” Peter asked.

“That was my thought,” Stiles said, picking up his dad’s plate. Peter gave him a threatening look when he reached for the Were’s plate and instead reached for the carrots. “You hate carrots,” Stiles said, without thinking.

“Well, do you feed them to me raw?” Peter looked irritated.

“Sorry.”

“Stiles didn’t know, Peter.” Sheriff Stilinski looked at the Were. “I didn’t even know he knew about it until Deaton called me.”

“Glad to know you’re all serious about keeping my secret.”

“How did you find out?” John asked his son.

“The night of the break-in Chris called Peter by his full name to get him to calm down.” It was stretching the truth a bit, but the details weren’t important. “How’s Scott?”

“Sleeping,” John said. “Melissa said he came home and went straight to sleep.”

“For that it’s worth,” Peter said, pouring rabbit sauce over his potatoes and carrots, “It’s a good sign. It means his body is accepting the changes.” He seemed to feel the Sheriff’s stare at that point. “I don’t know why Lydia’s bite didn’t take, but I’m relieved she’s stable.”

“I know it has to be pretty strange for you, a bit like time-travel, but either way, welcome back, and we’ll do what we can to get Derek back too.”

“Hey, Dad.” Stiles got up when his father started clearing the table. “Did you ever run Boyd’s fingerprints?” he asked. “Or any of the others?”

“It’s rare unless a Were’s been present at a crime scene and we need to eliminate them. We probably _should_ start keeping Were prints, but I think Deaton worries that they can be returned to abusive owners.”

“We don’t know anything about Boyd, and what if he was bitten, not born. His prints might be in the system from when he was a child.”

“I can swing by Erica’s and get them if she’s around.” John helped clear the table and Peter insisted on washing the dishes while Stiles walked his dad to the car. “I want you to be careful, Stiles.” His eyes flickered to the house and Stiles nodded, understanding. “I’ll be around if you need me, but I’ve got a get a few hours of sleep. I can come back and help you in the morning before work.”

“Thanks, Dad. Goodnight.”

Stiles made up the beds in the bunk room for himself and Peter as the Were finished watching the decade in review.

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased with who you’ve elected President. I’m impressed with the improvements in technology, but I’m disturbed by the lack of privacy.”

“Me too on both counts.”

“So, who admitted to drinking Werewolf jizz regularly enough to find it beneficial?” Peter seemed amused by the topic and Stiles told him which lab in Finland had discovered it. “Figures, there’s more Weres in the general population in that part of the world than anywhere else.”

“You think the ones who discovered it are the Weres?”

“Quite frankly, I’d heard rumors for years, mostly via ‘I’m partnered with a human and she said her skin’s never looked better,’ kind of stories. I always thought it was to try and get more head.”

“Well, someone took the rumors seriously enough. It’s apparently very good for neurological issues like treating MS.”

“What about minor injuries like scrapes and bruises?”

“Not enough research,” Stiles said.

“Did I hurt you, Stiles?” The question took the younger man off-guard. He stood up quickly from the couch and went to get ice cream from the freezer, and Peter dropped the subject. They ate ice cream, and Peter asked a few questions about the last six years which Stiles attempted to answer. The Omega eventually logged the Were into a guest account on his laptop and let him look things up for himself. The silver lining to Peter’s lack of awareness of the passage of time was that he remembered all of his online logins. He crowed when he looked at his bank accounts and investments and snarled at the apparent death of his trust attorney.

“Need a good cover story for why you haven’t answered any emails?”

“Pretty sure I’m going with ‘I’ve been in a coma for six years and just miraculously woke up’.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Stiles took a Xanax-because there was no way he was sleeping otherwise-and went up to take a shower. Chris had packed him some toiletries and he felt better after a thorough cleaning. His ass was swollen and tender at best but burned like the devil when soap and water were applied. He dressed in gym shorts and put the white t-shirt back on, since he’d only worn it since dinner. He was starting to feel a bit of a buzz from the Xanax and red wine, and the floaty feeling came with a wave of relief. He jogged over to the stable to do the final feeding for the Weres and then the three remaining Alphas. He knew they’d be restless tomorrow, but he was working with a skeleton crew and he wasn’t at a hundred percent. It took Stiles more than thirty minutes to feed the Weres and he did take extra time to bring Isaac a bowl of mashed potatoes with the rabbit gravy and a lamb chop. He hugged the Omega, and when the long, slender arms hugged him back, he cried a little.

Stiles washed his face when he put away the prepped food and dragged himself back to the house. Peter was already lying in Stiles’s bed, using his laptop, so Stiles turned off the light, yanked his special pillow he brought from home out from under the Were’s head and tossed it onto the other bed. Peter’s fingers had paused over the keyboard-as he contemplated murder obviously-until Stiles threw the other pillow at him.

“That one’s my special pillow that I bring from home.”

“I’ve been sleeping on a wooden bench with a filthy blanket for six years. I like how it smells, give it back.”

“You’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”

“Acceeeeptable,” he sing-songed.

“I have to sleep on my side thanks to you; touch the pillow, lose the hand.”

Peter made no other sound, so Stiles turned away from the illuminated screen of his laptop, pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes. The small amount of illumination he could detect through his lids extinguished and he breathed out. He started to drift, unable to do anything else with the Xanax and the remains of the wine, but his ears picked up a squeak from the floorboards beside his bed and he started to turn automatically.

“Stay put,” Peter said, placing a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “I’m going to take your pain.”

“Argent did it for me a few days ago,” he said.

“What happened?”

Stiles felt the pain ease and with its departure, the pleasant buzz of the benzos felt more relaxing. He snickered in reply and Peter gasped theatrically. “Christopher, you _dog_.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said.

“It would’ve kept you from sleeping well,” Peter answered.

“You can feel it?”

“Yes, at leas for a little while.”

“What does it feel like?”

“It’s ass-pain. It feels like ass-pain.” Stiles huffed and Peter spoke again. “It feels like a tingle at first from the point of contact, and then it grows in the space where it originated on the host.”

“You’d probably be a great doctor.”

“I’d be unpopular with drug-seekers.”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Stiles turned over again. “You weren’t in your right mind at the time.”

“You believe me?”

“I can’t imagine a reason you’d keep up the façade until after knotting me, so I can’t figure out why it happened.”

“I can see why it bothers you.”

“Memory loss under any circumstances can be disturbing, but for something like this,” he rolled onto his back and looked up into the darkness, “I’ve got no idea if I should be feeling guilty.”

“Then why are you looking for it?” Peter sounded slightly exasperated.

“The alternative is that there’s a threat.”

“I think it’s healthy to assume there’s a threat.” Peter removed his hand and went back to the other bed. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

~

The holiday passed without incident, and Deaton returned the day that Scott and Lydia returned to work. Jordan Parrish drove Lydia to the shelter and asked to examine Peter. Stiles asked for him to wait until Deaton returned later in the day. He agreed but did request to see how the Were had been secured. Stiles brought him into the barn. He watched nervously as Scott arrived and made certain to meet his friend at the door. He ushered Scott into the office before he could get too close to the other Weres, he asked him to wait for a moment before doing anything with them and went back to talk with Parrish who was standing outside the stall. He also noticed the the WCO and deputy was wearing his sidearm.

“He’s not moving.”

“We’re keeping him sedated. It was only me here, and I couldn’t safely handle him, so this was the next best option.” He scratched the back of his head and watched for Scott out of the corner of his eye.

“You seem jumpy,” Parrish said, still friendly, but more focused now.

“I’ve been living here non-stop for four days. I know there’s more work to do, but I’m a little antsy to get home.” There was real irritation in his tone. “And Deaton’s the guy who can answer your questions.”

“Hey Scott,” Jordan said, calling out to his friend. “Can I run something by you?” Stiles was twitching and trying not to freak out as Scott came out of the office. He looked tired, but otherwise fine.

“Sure.”

“Are there any plants we’ve got around here that are toxic to Weres?”

“Yeah, a couple of things. At this time of year, mistletoe is the only one that can make them sick. It’s toxic to humans, but Weres don’t process it through the liver properly so they end up just vomiting it out and eventually getting weak from dehydration.”

“Wouldn’t there be something around the mouth to show?”

“Yeah, he’s sedated, we can take a look.”

“Maybe we should wait,” Stiles began, moving forward. “I mean, I checked his mouth, I even shaved him to get a better look, but I didn’t see anything.” Jordan gave him a small smile and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles, no one plans to hurt Peter. I know you’ve been caring for him for a long time, and you want to protect him. I’m not planning to put him down, but Lydia’s reaction to him made me concerned that he ate something toxic that could’ve harmed her too.” Scott approached the door as he spoke and reached for the handle. Stiles flinched when Scott’s hand was repelled by the mountain ash.

“Ow,” Scott said. “The static electricity gets bad here in the winter.” He reached for the controls to the electrical current and Stiles spoke up.

“Uh, you maybe should let me do that,” he said.

“Hey,” Scott said with a crooked smile, “you’re not the boss of me, Stilinski, I’ll electrocute myself if I want.” He moved to open the keypad and put in the code for dropping the electrical field. Stiles chewed his thumb and prayed that Scott would swipe his keycard before putting his hand on the handle to the stall door. “Oh, we should get extra gear before going in, just in case.”

Stiles was sweating bullets by the time Scott and Jordan were kitted up with a Were-handling catch pole and an extra tranquilizer. Facing away from the door, Peter appeared to be sleeping, and had hidden his freshly groomed face. He tried to edge nearer to the stall door, hoping to open it before Scott could try again. Jordan’s expression was friendly but focused now and he waved Stiles away.

“We’ve got this,” he said, and Stiles gnawed on his lip. He prayed that his friend would just swipe his card, which would disable the new lock and break the ash barrier. He was out of luck.

“Ow,” Scott said, withdrawing his hand from the handle. “What’s wrong with this thing.” Stiles stepped forward but felt a broad hand in the middle of his chest. Jordan’s eyes were on Scott as the young vet tried to touch the handle again. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and tried to shove his hand around the handle. A bright, blue translucent flare lit up the barrier.

“It’s okay, Scott. We can do it later.” Jordan pushed Stiles behind him, but Stiles moved out of his grasp. “Stiles,” he said with a hint of warning in his voice.

“He doesn’t know,” he said with a sigh.

Scott looked at Stiles and Jordan in confusion and then over to Lydia who had just dropped the food tray she was carrying.

“What’s-” he paused, a little slow to catch on. “I don’t understand.”

“The bite,” Stiles said. “It was from a Pack Alpha, Scotty. You’re turning.”

“That’s a myth,” he said, shaking his head.

“Show me the bite,” Stiles said.

“I can’t it’s…it’s already healed.” He’d gone pale under his tan. “Lydia?” He looked at her helplessly because she was smart, and usually had answers. “Yours healed too, right?”

“Some, but it’s not gone.”

“Right, but you got sick.” Scott was backing away from them and it was Stiles’s turn to hold Jordan back. “I didn’t get sick. I just healed.” He shook hid head and turned away, going to the door. Lydia walked towards him and didn’t stop when his hand was repelled by the doorknob and he jumped back. He stood there staring as she walked straight into him and put her arms around him. “You too, right?”

“No. The bite didn’t take.” Stiles heard her whisper and his heartrate picked up. He saw Peter twitch out of the corner of his eye.

“Lydia,” Stiles said. “Did you know?” He walked over to his friends and saw tears streaming down Scott’s face as he stared at the door. Lydia didn’t answer and he reached out and touched Scott’s arm. “Deaton was hoping to be back before you got here, but he got delayed.”

“You knew?” Scott turned to Stiles, looking angry. “How could you know?”

“Because I told him.” Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to Peter’s stall. He swiped his keycard and pulled the stall door open. Peter cleared his throat and Stiles took off his flannel shirt and tossed it into the stall. “That proverbial cat is out of the bag, so rather than having our good Were control officer running off to report an unlicensed pet running around, because I’m quite certain Dr. McCall here is domesticated, I thought I’d pause this with a short explanation.” He appeared in the doorway with Stiles’s flannel buttoned around his waist and tied into an impromptu kilt. He looked at Jordan who was still calm but had his hand on his weapon. “ _You’re_ not surprised in the least.”

“No,” Jordan said and despite Lydia’s hurt look, he shrugged. “But I’m not one for spilling other people’s secrets.”

“Can we skip the ‘how long have you known?’ part of the conversation and get to the more fascinating part-which is me-and talk about what to do next?”

“You can talk?” Scott was looking dazed.

“ _You_ can.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been naked for six years and growling.”

“I wasn’t myself.” He stepped out of the stall and Jordan tensed up. “At ease, Soldier.” He walked past him over to Scott and Lydia. “Scott, I’m deeply and genuinely regretful about what happened. I don’t remember anything of the last six years until I woke up completely coherent about an hour or so after you left. I would never have given you the bite without your permission, but in my feral state, I had no control over my instincts.” He paused and then spoke again. “I’m your Alpha now, and I’m going to help you learn to control your gifts and live a normal life.”

“Normal?” Scott looked like he was about to break. “How can you say that?”

“I had a pretty normal life,” he replied. “I will again. So, will you.” He turned and looked at Stiles, glancing pointedly at the younger man’s pocket where his phone was. “You’re not alone. There are others like us out there and for the most part we’re pretty normal, working, living, tax-paying citizens. Once you learn control, you’ll just be a human with enhanced strength, speed, senses, and the ability to shift.”

“What about work?”

“You may need to modify your routine, and the Weres here may respond to you differently. They’ll smell and sense the changes; you can learn to control that too, but it’s harder.”

“How am I gonna explain this to Allison and my parents?”

“You aren’t.” The edge of Peter’s voice could have cut glass. “You can’t tell anyone about this. This part is not a soft rule. There are people out there who will kill you if they find out, and there are plenty more who would want to study you and stick you in a lab. Or in prison because they’ll be afraid of you.”

“Maybe they should be,” Scott said, angrily. “You turned me into an animal.”

“A long time ago I met a young man; a teenager who’d been injured very badly. He chose to take the bite in order to survive a fatal injury and had a lot of issues adjusting to life as a creature he’d always believed was savage and uncivilized. I’ll tell you what I told him all those years ago, Scott.” Peter, barefoot and shirtless with carefully mussed hair, placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “You are the animal you’ve always been; no less than that, and no more. Your ability to access parts of the brain that process sensory information has changed, and your instincts will be more pronounced and easier to act on, but they’re the same ones you’ve always had.”

“I’m a monster,” Scott said, shaking his head.

“You’re a Werewolf, like me.” He turned around and pointed to the closest stall. “Derek is my nephew; he used to drive a Camaro and could speak four languages.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Okay, three. He understood German but his accent was atrocious.”

“I haven’t grown claws or fangs.”

“It hasn’t been safe for me to leave the property and inconvenient for me to call you here, so I’ve been maintaining you through our pack bond.”

“What about me?” Lydia asked, softly. Peter turned to her and his face softened into a beatific smile. “I didn’t turn, but I didn’t die, either.”

“Lydia,” he tongued her name like he was going down on it, stroking each syllable. “I apologize for the bite. I’m not sure why I did it and I’m very sorry you ended up ill.”

“She went into cardiac arrest,” Jordan said.

“Like I said, I have no idea what happened, but I’m sorry for my wolf’s part in it.” He took her hands in his. “I was able to feel Scott, but my bond with you is different.”

“What’s keeping Scott from going feral like you?”

“That’s not something that happens naturally,” Peter replied. “It was done deliberately to me, to Derek, and I suspect many others, but I haven’t been off this property in _years_.” He gestured to Scott. “As long as he learns control, he’s no more danger to the people around him than any other human.”

“You learned,” Lydia said, keeping her eyes on Peter’s. “While you were here, you _learned_. When you came in you were uncontrollable and very hostile. So was Ennis. You might not have been able to remember who you were, but you did learn while you were here. I’m not sure how you don’t remember it now.”

“I don’t either,” Peter said. “It was like waking up from a dream.” He reached forward and touched a strand of golden-red hair. “I think I dreamed of you.” His voice became soft.

“Get in line,” she replied, and he grinned hugely. Lydia looked at Stiles with only a small amount of hostility in her gaze. “Did he bite you, Stiles?”

“No. I was here when he woke up.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t-I don’t actually remember.” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know what happened, actually. We’re all a little unsure.”

“Do you think biting them brought you back?” Jordan asked.

“I doubt it’s a coincidence,” he replied. He looked the officer up and down. “How did you find out?” he asked.

“I saw some crazy stuff overseas.” He left his explanation at that. “What now?”

“We’ve still got work to do,” Lydia said. “Scott, before everyone gets here, lets see if you can open other doors.”

“I think that if you swipe your keycard, the mountain ash disengages. Just make sure you don’t reach for the door with anyone else around.”

“I’ll check the doors, but I don’t know if I can work.”

“You’re not leaving me hanging, Dude. I know you were hurt, but I haven’t had a break in days.”

“Sorry,” Scott straightened up. “I’ll go with Lydia.”

“Who else is coming in today?” Peter asked.

“Just the stable workers. Nobody else except Deaton has access to the barn. Jordan and my dad need to have one of us let them in. Argent too, but he’s a contractor with a high level Were handling license so he can be on property, he just doesn’t have a key card.”

“What about that Theo kid you mentioned?” Peter asked. “He seems sketchy, and can I get some pants if I’m not going to be curled up on a bench?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Stiles left the barn, feeling a little relieved to get away from the tension. He went up to the house and returned with Peter’s clothes as Chris was pulling in. There were two other cars behind him, and Stiles let them through. Rhonda waved and brought him a box of candy after she parked. Stiles unlocked the front doors and let her in. Theo, Tracy and Corey filed in after her. They all said hi and asked about his holiday, he answered that it was fine and asked about theirs and they had the same answer. He told them to get the sable Weres out for as much of the day as possible when the other part-timers arrived.

Stiles walked through and grabbed Isaac, who was quite restless, and brought him into the barn with him. The Omega was thrilled to see Lydia and Scott, who had returned to the barn. Scott was looking a little more hopeful and Chris Argent was talking to him. The hunter was more like how he’d behaved before the break-in. He was chilly, stoic, and clearly unimpressed that Jordan and Lydia had been told anything. Stiles hadn’t told them who the teenage bite recipient had been and didn’t intend to without permission. When he got close enough to hand Peter the bag of clothes, the Were pulled off his flannel and handed it back to him with a wink. Stiles tied it around his waist and ignored Jordan’s expression when Peter pulled on the t-shirt first, and then the sweater, remaining naked from the waist down until he eventually put on underwear and then jeans.

“I think Argent likes me in tight jeans,” he said, adjusting his crotch.

“Maybe you were skinnier six years ago.”

“I’m under the impression I’ve been on a fairly _lean_ diet,” he replied, and Stiles caught Peter looking him up and down.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Peter said, shaking him head. He surreptitiously adjusted himself again. “Sorry, I’m feeling a bit…full.” He looked at Stiles who felt his nose twitch slightly, but otherwise kept the same expression. He started to say something, but Stiles held up a finger and pointed to Peter’s newest Beta, and then to his own ear. Peter jammed a trucker’s cap over his unruly hair and pulled Stiles over to the side door. Stiles took him out the side exit and they walked up to the house together. Stiles speed-walked and Peter kept on his heels. Once they got inside, he grabbed the Omega by his shirt. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said. “You-uh…we mentioned the essence thing.”

“I was a healthy man in my prime six years ago and I had a healthy amount of urges, but I wasn’t in a relationship at that time, and didn’t usually stat feeling this way unless I’d spent several days of anticipation without an outlet.”

“Maybe it’s the excitement. Or maybe it’s leaking over from Scott.”

“Having a horny packmate doesn’t give me blue balls, Stiles.”

“Well, the barn is where you would usually get milked, and it’s Friday.” He looked anywhere except at the Alpha. “And I’m the one who always…did it.”

“Did what?”

“I…milked you. We call it milking, because it’s never sexual for us, and if we didn’t do it that often, you’d get knot block.”

“How often?”

“At least once a week, but on average six times a month.” When Peter dropped his chin, he started to sweat. “During mating season, when Isaac was in season, you started producing more. After the break-in you seemed a little depressed, and it was harder to get a response, so you might just be a little…backed up.”

Peter’s face reddened and Stiles realized it was a combination of anger and humiliation. He understood how the man was feeling, it was probably the same feeling he’d had when Peter had been with him in the woods, and then when he’d woken up knotted, only to be jerked off by Peter in order to get free.

“It’s sick,” he hissed.

“I agree,” Stiles replied. “We used to do it only when you would get uncomfortable, I think it has something to do with having a lot of Alphas together with no other dynamics to neutralize you. You get competitive and you all needed the relief. We didn’t start collecting it until we found out how valuable it was. We didn’t do it more often than was comfortable, but we needed to keep you all fed and sheltered.”

“So, Lydia, Scott, Alan Deaton and you have all jerked me off at one point or another?” he asked.

“We’ve all fed you, bathed you, cleaned up after you, cared for you, and when you needed the relief, we did that for you too. We all protest the treatment of male Alphas in big commercial dairies. I know it doesn’t help to tell you that others have it worse, but we did our best to keep you healthy, comfortable and exercised for years without getting anything for it. Once laws for humane treatment went into effect and the health benefits of your essence were discovered, we started selling it because it was just going to waste.” He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Just the five of you, Derek, Ennis, Duke, Boyd and you all produced enough to pay for the additions so we could house more Weres and expand the exercise yards. People aren’t allowed to kill Weres indiscriminately anymore, and if they displace them, they have to relocate them or bring them to someone like us. It’s not a perfect system, and it’s really crowded here sometimes, but we wanted to help more Weres.”

“How much can the jizz from five guys bring in a year?” Peter asked.

“You produce more than the average human, but it still gets diluted and mixed with a nutrient serum to keep the cells alive longer. Still has a short shelf life, but it means we can get it to people within two days and it will still have close to full potency.”

“How much?”

“Just the five of you bring in close to a half-million a year.”

“Five hundred thousand dollars?” Peter’s eyebrows went up. “I don’t believe it.”

“Okay, I’ll break it down for you by averages, there are plenty of factors like popping a knot, the time of year, and other things that make this vary, I’m just breaking down the numbers by averages.”

“Got it,” Peter said making a motion with his hand for Stiles to get on with the explanation.

“On average, you produce about ten to twenty milliliters of essence per ejaculate and each milliliter is diluted with nutrient serum so there’s less than one milliliter per dose. Essence is collected between three and six times per month, tested, treated and bottled the same days it’s collected and mailed out or sold locally to people who are on our call list.”

“How much per bottle?”

“Each bottle sells for between sixty and a hundred and fifty. The price is varied based on its grade. Grades one through seven are Alpha grades, one being the lowest and seven being the highest. One through three are usually produced by younger, less-healthy Alphas like the wild-caught ones who might not have had proper nutrition. Two to five is the range for most big, commercial dairies. They homogenize so the high-quality stuff from their stronger level five or six Weres is diluted by the mass quantities of their ones and twos.

“The really big dairies will only average grade three. Smaller farms who have one or two Alphas, or privately owned Weres will usually produce decent stuff that’s in the four to six range. They’re more popular now with the people who can afford it. Deaton didn’t want to raise prices, but our stuff was getting purchased for resale, so we just stick with the market price.”

“Each of my ejaculations is worth a thousand bucks?” Peter looked skeptical. “Well, sounds like I have my retirement plan.” Stiles chuckled weakly. “When the opportunity came up for Boyd to go to a new home, we didn’t hesitate to try and place him, even though it meant losing the income.”

“Good for his new…owner.”

The sound of a car pulling onto the gravel driveway distracted them both. “It’s Deaton,” Peter said, peering out the window. “Don’t worry, I won’t lay the golden egg anywhere, I’m just going to take a piss.” He adjusted himself again and walked to the bathroom.

Stiles went outside to greet his boss, who uncharacteristically gave him a tight hug.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Stiles.”

“How’s Isabella?”

“Perfect. She’s out of the incubator and gaining weight. Marin sends her thanks for the gifts, by the way. Where is everyone?”

“Chris, Jordan, Scott and Lydia are in the barn. Rhonda and the sketchy trio are in the stable and hopefully getting the Weres outside. Peter’s in the bathroom probably planning to open a salon and selling his own essence.”

“He can do whatever he wants,” Deaton said. “Scott…?”

“I tried to distract him, but Jordan asked to see Peter and Scott grabbed the handle to the stall before I could stop him.” He sighed. “Jordan apparently guessed, which isn’t a shock considering his work, but Scott was pretty upset. Peter explained things and Chris was talking to him about the dangers of being around hunters, but also how to protect himself.” They both turned around as Peter strolled out of the bathroom. He paused for effect in the hallway with a little ‘ta-da’ jazz hands flair and Deaton let out a chuckle.

“Peter, it was really great to hear your voice, and I’m so glad to see you like this.”

“Dressed?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” the vet replied.


	19. Daddy's home!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton comes back, and Peter leaves the shelter.

Deaton was probably tired, but he dropped his bags in his bedroom and headed straight for the barn, telling Stiles to go home. Stiles sagged against the counter and rubbed his hand over his face. He hadn’t ever minded being left in charge, but those other times had happened when the universe had made sense. He felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Deaton was human, and as fallible as any, but he just knew so much about Weres, and apparently about everyone else. He walked tiredly to the bunk room, stripped the bed and tossed the sheets in the laundry pile before putting his dirty clothes back in the bag. He heard the screen door creak, and lowered voices in the hall.

“Stiles?” Chris Argent stood in the doorway, leaning on one arm. “How are you?”

“I feel like the guy who’s been planning, decorating and cooking for a party and I’m going home just as it’s starting.”

“A party?”

“I’ve been sitting on this information for a while, and I’ve been so worried about my friends,” he said. “Then came ‘Bite Night’ and I had to just sit here on my ass while my friends were in the hospital, or starting to do whatever it is you do when the moon isn’t full, and now we’re all here together and in two minutes, all cards are on the table. I feel like a copout for leaving now, but I really need to not be here for a few days.” He looked up at Chris. “How are you? How was Christmas?” Chris raised his eyebrows at the mundane question. “Okay, did you tell Scott…anything?”

“I told him to stay away from Allison until he gets himself under control. She can take care of herself, but she might already know humans can be turned and she might notice the change in Scott.”

“I’ll start working with him,” Peter said, stepping into the doorway. “Now that everyone who might have reason to put me to sleep knows who I am, I’m feeling like a change in venue is called for.”

“Allison’s leaving for L.A. tomorrow, I’ve already kicked my sister off the continent. My father and his friends haven’t given me a departure date yet, and I can’t act like I want to get rid of them.”

“You don’t have any pets, but is there any reason you can ask him to stay longer?” Stiles asked. “Your father seems like the kind of guy to put colossal efforts into finding out what you like doing so he can make sure you’re doing the opposite.” Peter snickered.

“So, I should ask him how long he’s going to be around and tell him I’m taking a trip?”

“No, too elementary. You print out a flyer for a house-sitter and put it on your desk in your office. When he asks you where you’re going for a trip, you can either try and look surprised, or you can laugh and call him a nosy old man-and _don’t_ answer his question. It will drive him nuts. Then say, ‘it’s no big deal, I can cancel it if you’re sticking around, or if you need me to help you on your latest hunt’.” Peter was covering the bottom half of his face with his hand.

“That’s the mentality of a cop’s kid,” Chris said.

“Yeah, my dad wanted to teach me to make good decisions based on the strength of my ‘character’,” he said, making air quotes, “yours raised you like a soldier, and your only job is to obey.” He smiled. “Don’t get defensive and avoid it, look sly, like you’ve got a juicy secret, something he’d find amusing but not threatening.”

“My life has never sounded more exciting,” Chris said.

“Just hear the concept: he’s getting old and probably takes every possible opportunity to show you he’s smarter, so he’ll want to rub it in your face that he’s looked at a flyer on your desk and brilliantly deduced the fact that you want to go someplace and it’s a _secret!_ ” He loudly whispered the last word and heard Peter snicker. “If you don’t act defensive, and you don’t brush him off, he’ll think you’re banging a married woman, or something. Or that you’ve got some secret business meeting he’s not invited to.”

“What next Sherlock?”

“I can’t wait,” Peter said.

“Pick a place where you know someone who isn’t one of your hunter friends…assuming you have friends who aren’t hunters. Or friends in general, I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged. “But your father will eventually assume you’re visiting this person and either get very intrigued, or decide he’s guessed already and figured you out.”

“Or I could hack his computer and get his itinerary.”

“You could do that.”

“I like Stiles’s idea better,” Peter said. “Just lay a trail of breadcrumbs to some town like Cheyenne, Wyoming, make him think there’s something there, and then when you need a few days of privacy, tell him you’ll be gone for a few days and he’ll be on the next plane.”

“Good idea, I’ll think about it.”

“In the meantime,” Peter said. “I could definitely use a change of scenery.”

“I can probably crash at my dad’s place if you want to stay at my apartment,” Stiles said. “It’s a shoebox, but at least you’ll have something resembling privacy.”

“I’ll see what I can find for you, longer term.” Chris nodded towards the yard. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“I’ll impose on Stiles for the night, since your house is crowded with genocidal maniacs.”

“Do you have access to money?”

“Not directly, but I expect to fairly soon. I may need to borrow a few bucks until I can get into my storage unit.”

“Where is it?”

“Downtown. I had the monthly payments automatically debited from my checking account, like a few other things, so everything should still be there.”

“After six years?”

“They’re still taking the money out.” Peter put the hat back on and borrowed Stiles’s hoodie and scarf. Chris gave him a few hundred dollars in cash and waved. Stiles thought he looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. They stopped at a hardware store and Stiles went in for a lock. He came out and Peter directed him to the self-storage place. He found his unit quickly and twisted off the old lock. Stiles used his phone as a flashlight when Peter pulled the door open. He sniffed around, carefully. “I don’t think anyone’s been here in years.” He pulled Stiles into the space and closed it behind them.

It was cramped and very dusty. Stiles put his collar up over his nose to avoid sneezing. He waited while Peter climbed up over some furniture covered in dust cloths and waited while he uncovered a bureau and took out a lock box. He handed it to Stiles and grabbed another box which he hoisted onto his shoulder. They secured it with the new lock and left, adding the boxes to the box the sheriff had left and drove on. Stiles admitted he had no food at the apartment, so he took a list from Peter and ran into the local market to stock up after leaving the Werewolf in his apartment. He came back to find Peter had pulled up Netflix and was watching Gilmore Girls.

“I never finished this. Laura made me watch it with her.” Stiles didn’t think he reacted, but Peter must’ve seen something. “Oh, come on. I’m the Pack Alpha, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she’s dead.”

“Why didn’t you ask about her?”

“I don’t think I want to know.”

“I never met her,” Stiles said.

Peter let it go for the night, and like most people who just sent someone to the grocery store, he ordered pizza which arrived just after Stiles returned. Stiles paid for it, not wanting anyone to see Peter who didn’t need to. He changed the sheets on his bed and called his father. The way his father awkwardly asked why Stiles needed a place to stay told Stiles enough. “Melissa’s staying the night?”

“Uh, yes.”

“No problem. I’m going to shut out the world for the next few days and try to forget what I do for a living and what I’ve learned recently.”

“Am I homeless?” Peter asked.

“No, I think you could use some space, so I’ll find something. Do you think Scott’s going to be okay without you?”

“I plan to see him after he gets out of work. I just need to get a phone.”

“I can run down the street and grab you a pay as you go phone.”

Stiles picked up his mail when he returned and heard his shower running. He reclaimed his laptop and discovered that his amazon account was open and that he’d ordered several thousands of dollars in merchandise. He frantically pulled up his bank account to transfer money from his savings into his checking and nearly choked when he found his checking account was eight thousand dollars richer than it had been that morning. Peter came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and significantly shorter hair.

“Can you help me with the back?” he asked, swinging his finger around in a halo around his head.

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles had a set of clippers he used to trim his own hair, and Peter had helped himself to it in order to give himself a more civilized look. The Omega evened out the back and then started cleaning the blades. Peter dropped his towel and hopped back in the shower to rinse off the trimmed hair. Stiles wiped the massive pile of curls out of the sink and handed over his last clean towel to Peter when he stepped out again. He picked up the three wet ones from the bathroom floor and tossed them in the laundry hamper. He went into his bedroom and picked up the rest of his dirty clothes, bringing them to the closet that held his compact washer and dryer.

“Can you toss these in?” Peter walked up behind Stiles and handed him the towel he was wearing along with the clothes he’d worn earlier. He was standing close to the Omega and had his benign smile on his face.

“Sure.” Stiles turned around and put the clothes in with the towels on the cold cycle. He could feel the Were standing close behind him and then the Alpha’s hands settled on his waist. A trickle of fear went down his spine, but arousal still pooled in his belly. “Peter?”

“Turn around, Stiles.” The Omega obeyed and looked at the Werewolf. Trimmed and clean, the man was seriously hot and knew it. “We both have a problem, but I think we can help each other solve them.”

“Problem?”

“Lydia was almost right. She said I’ve learned during my time in captivity, but that’s not true. I’ve been _trained_.”

“Peter, I’m-”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to be very disappointed.” He stepped closer and his naked erection jutted out in front of him. “My _problem_ is that my body associates you with sexual release, contact, and companionship.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “At the moment, it associates _only_ you with those things.”

“What do you mean?”

“My wolf recognizes the closeness of bonds on a different level than my conscious mind. Scott is my Beta, Derek is my blood, and Chris used to be in my Pack. You’re a total stranger to me, but my wolf seems to believe you’re closer to me than all of them. Whether it’s the knotting, or your long-term relationship with my penis, I don’t know. Either way, I can’t focus on anyone except you for what I need.” His eyes flashed red. “Your problem is that you’re injured because I knotted you outside your heat and with apparently very little prep. I’ve hurt you, torn you, and my wolf can’t let that go.” Stiles took in a slow breath and let it out.

“If you need me to do something for you, I will.”

“Is that what you want?” Peter asked, and Stiles was reminded of the night he spent with Chris in Vegas.

“My feelings are a little complicated,” he said.

“Do you want me?”

“I-yes.”

“Good.”

Peter brought a hand up to the back of Stiles’s neck and dragged him along to the bedroom. He shut the door and pushed the Omega back against it. “If I’d been given options for how I’d come back from a six-year mental vacation, I can think of very few that would have been more appealing that being buried balls deep in your tight little ass.” He pressed his thumb against Stiles’s bottom lip. “Since it’s unavailable at the moment, I’m eager to enjoy this mouth. What do you say? Want a cool grand shot down your throat for free?”

“You want me to suck you till you come? I can do that.”

“Do I like it when you suck me?”

“I never have,” Stiles said. “I only ever used my hand.”

“Too much of a gag reflex, or afraid of wasting the product?”

“Neither,” Stiles said, hearing the edge in Peter’s voice. He turned them both around and pushed the Were’s naked back to the door. “We can talk about your feelings and what your wolf did while you were under the influence, or the hot guy I met just before Christmas can get his dick sucked. Your call.” He saw the sharp intake of breath from the Were and the lip curl that looked so very much like the Peter he knew.

“Get on your knees,” He hissed, and Stiles did it.

Peter’s erection was so familiar, but this felt nothing like what they’d done before. He gave a few firm strokes and ran his thumb over the slit, making Peter jump before leaning forward and sucking the head into his mouth. Peter had a clean, soapy smell but underneath was the faint Alpha musk that was familiar. He pushed thoughts of the barn out of his head and just enjoyed himself. He sank slowly down the shaft and back up, repeating it several times to warm up before taking him all the way to the base and swallowing around him. He heard Peter curse and withdrew to give a couple of quick sucks to the head. Stiles went with long, slow, hard pulls and kept the suction steady before going back down to the base. He heard Peter starting to talk.

“You suck cock like you love it,” he hissed. “I’ll bet you want me to make you choke on it. You’d let me fuck your mouth, wouldn’t you? That’s right, Sweetheart, just turn around like that, and let me give it to you.”

Peter gently held the back of Stiles’s head and withdrew, turning them around again. Stiles shuffled on his knees, gripping Peter’s lean hips and letting the Were guide him until his back was pressed to the solid wood. Peter slid out of his mouth and took the younger man’s hands, crowding close and using his knees to pin the Omega’s wrists to the door. “Open up for me.” He pushed his cock into Stiles’s mouth again and held his face with one hand on either side. He went slowly for the first few thrusts, testing his length with the new angle and then he went for it. “That’s it. Yes, that’s perfect.” His voice started out soft but got deeper the closer he came to his climax. “Yes, you’re going to take your medicine, swallow every drop like a good boy, won’t you. Once you’re healed, you’ll get on your hands and knees, and take it from me again. That’s it! Almost there, That’s so perfect! Yes, Fuck!

Peter’s legs were trembling as he made his last few thrusts. He went fast and hard, but he stayed relatively shallow until the last one when he started coming on Stiles’s tongue and pushed to the back of his mouth. The Omega swallowed reflexively and sucked with an aching jaw as the Were pulled out. He felt cool fingers under his chin and stood up, slowly sliding his back up the door. Peter fumbled with him, turning him around and panting against his neck as he rubbed his face there. He took Stiles’s wrists and pressed his palms flat against the door, on either side of his face.

The Alpha was breathing heavily as he reached around and into the Omega’s pants, stroking his hard cock. Stiles moaned and then Peter pushed his pants down past his ass and dropped down, spreading his cheeks and starting to lick.

“Oh, Fuck!” he groaned.

“Not today,” Peter replied and dove in, delving deeply and drawing out soft, urgent noises while he reached around and stroked the Omega firmly.

“Uh, I’m gonna come,” Stiles whispered, and Peter spun him around he nearly lost his balance before Peter sucked his cock into his mouth. He saw stars when he came and curled over the Alpha, who swallowed every drop and gently tucked him away.

“So, you’ve been sexiled by your dad huh? It’s okay, I’m willing to share the bed.”

Scott spoke to Peter on the phone and Peter agreed that Scott could absolutely have another night to process the news he’d been given, and Peter would continue to use their bond to help control his shift. He warned Scott that the longer he waited, the harder it might be, and the men agreed to meet the following day after work. Stiles sent Lydia a text message and apologized for not calling her earlier. She accepted it and then told him they needed to have breakfast soon.

Stiles left Peter online shopping when he turned in but warned him to not go over the limit in Stiles’s bank account. While staying at Deaton’s, Peter had gone into his bag and found his checkbook. Since they had accounts at the same bank, he’d used Stiles’s account and routing number to transfer the money. He’d done it before Christmas, but it had taken several days to clear. When Peter explained that without an I.D. or bank card, he couldn’t withdraw money directly, Stiles agreed to help. He’d drifted off to the sounds of witty dialogue that should have been nominated for more awards, and barely woke when Peter slid into the bed beside him.

“Hey,” He mumbled as Peter took the big spoon position.

“We’re upgrading to a king,” Peter whispered and anchored him firmly with an arm around his waist.


	20. Stiles makes a good decision and a bad one.

Peter only needed to spend one night with Stiles before his contacts came through and he got a new I.D. and paperwork. Chris ran background checks on the employees at the law firm where his trust was handled and found no connections to anyone in the hunter community. Peter went in and met with the young associate who’d been handling his affairs at the end of the week. Dressed in designer clothes and affecting a limp while walking with a cane sold the attorneys on the story that he was recovering from a coma following an accident overseas. Greta, his new attorney gave her most sincere condolences on Laura’s passing. Peter froze for a moment and then thanked her.

Greta was also handling Laura’s trust and asked if it was possible for Derek to come in, since they had been unable to locate him, and he had yet to receive his half of Laura’s trust.

“We just need him to sign some paperwork to get things settled.”

“Thank you.” Peter asked about his apartment, and Greta informed him that the bills were up-to-date and that a cleaning service had been there monthly.

“Do you have a set of keys?” he asked. “Mine were misplaced in Ecuador.”

“I can call the cleaning service, and they can meet you there.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.”

“When will Cora be coming back?” Greta asked. “In April she said she’d be traveling a bit and wasn’t sure when she’d be back in California.” Stiles, who had been pretending to help Peter stand, felt the older man’s hand tighten on his forearm.

“I haven’t been able to reach her. I thought she was back here,” he said. “Could you give her my number and ask her to call me?”

“Certainly, and welcome back, Mr. Hale. I hope the rest of your recovery goes well.”

“My physical therapist thinks I’ll be walking unassisted soon; it’s a herniated disc, so it just takes time. Thank you so much, Greta.”

Stiles drove Peter to a building in a soon-to-be gentrified neighborhood and walked inside to greet the man who’d been cleaning the place. He took the keys and ‘helped’ Peter out of the jeep, just for the look of the thing.

“Does it look the same?” Stiles asked as they went inside. It was big and spacious with much nicer-looking furniture than Stiles had ever owned.

“More or less,” Peter replied, looking around. “If anyone’s been here, they left months ago.”

“You’re lucky, squatters are terrible out here.” Stiles walked into the kitchen. “It’s a nice place, do you think it’s safe?”

“Not sure,” the Alpha replied.

“The security sucks,” Chris Argent said from the doorway. He smiled at Stiles who gave him a nod and turned back to look in the empty refrigerator.

“What did I need security for?” Peter asked. “I heard you pulling in.” He hung up his coat and cane by the door. “I wasn’t here very often. Derek, Cora and Laura shared it with me. Our trust and a lot of other things were here, so we used it as a crash pad when we needed to.” He walked back over to Chris and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I hadn’t been back here before I was shot, that's why a lot of my stuff was in storage.”

“So, can we go over the events of what brought you back here and how you got shot?” Stiles asked. He settled onto a stool. “I can’t figure out why this isn’t a priority.”

“No leads,” Chris said. “Not in six years.”

“Was my dad looking into it?”

“Not really,” Chris said. “He looked for leads on the fire, and I told him a few things, but he and Deaton and I didn’t all get onto the same page until a few years ago. All three of us knew, but we didn’t all know what the other one knew, so we all kept quiet.”

“I get it,” Stiles said. “Keeping secrets is keeping people safe, but there comes a point when you need to lay your cards out on the table. Tell me what happened, you might surprise each other with the number of details you’ve missed, or the ones you’ve caught.” Silence greeted his request. He looked at the Weres who looked at each other and then rolled his eyes before they started to speak.

“Stiles, you’ve done enough. You shouldn’t have to solve this,” Chris began. “Where are you going?” He watched as Stiles got up from the table and walked to the door.

“Leaving,” he replied. 

“Stiles,” Chris said, holding his hand up. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

“Now that you don’t need me anymore?” He pinned them each with a stare. “You say it’s dangerous, I believe it. That’s why I won’t have anything to do with either of you, in any way whatsoever, without knowing the scope of the situation. You either don’t trust my judgement despite everything I’ve done to keep you safe, you don’t trust me, or you were carelessly risking my life when I was useful and convenient.” Chris moved closer to him.

“It was selfish to ask you for help, but a few days didn’t seem like a big deal since no one knew he was at the shelter.”

“Right, because a Were bite won’t attract the attention from people who know what it does, right?” The hunter flinched like he’d struck a nerve and Peter tagged in.

“I’ve already hurt you, Stiles. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt if Chris, Scott or I get exposed to this toxin again before we find and stop the people responsible.” Stiles whole body was tense, and he tapped the air like he really wanted to say something else, but he took a breath and looked Peter in the eye.

“I get it, so don’t call, don’t text, don’t write. You want me out, I’m all the way out. I don’t need people shooting at me in the woods. If you want to get somewhere with Derek, you talk to Deaton and you do it on his time when I’m not around.” He pointed to Chris. “You don’t knock on my door again. You don’t pull me into this again, and you keep your sister at least a county away from me. I don’t care what it does to your company.”

“Let him go,” Peter said, as he went down the hall.

Stiles changed all of his passwords and deleted Peter’s presence on his laptop. He packed up the items that had already been shipped to his place and set them in a pile by his door. When he looked out the window and saw Chris Argent’s truck pulling up outside. When the man got out of the truck, he spoke.

“Mr. Argent. I’m putting Peter’s stuff in the hallway right now.” He saw the older man look up at him from the parking lot. “Take it and go. You’re back to being my friend’s dad who helped me the night of the break-in. I’ll talk to Deaton and my dad.” He saw Chris’s expression. “Is it really that dangerous?” He waited and the man glanced around and then nodded. “Would you have really wanted me to stumble around blindfolded while all this unfolds around me?”

Chris bowed his head and walked into the building. Stiles opened the door and shoved the boxes into the hallway. He heard the stairwell door open up just as he placed the bag of Peter’s toiletries on top and shut his door. He went to the bedroom to lie down and rolled his eyes when the door opened.

“You didn’t even lock it.” It was Peter.

“I’m installing a new lock tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” He stood in the doorway to the bedroom.

“You said it yourself at your apartment. You had no security because you didn’t think you needed it. If you couldn’t keep yourself safe, and neither could Derek, that doesn’t give me good odds. So please, understand it’s not personal when I tell you to leave and not come back.”

“Okay.”

“I know my dad can make his own choices, but stay away from him too. I don't want you to so much as ask him for directions if you’re not telling him what he’s up against.” He paused. “That was not a question. You agree here and now, or you find out how fucked up your shit can get by a Twink Omega.”

“I can’t control your father, but I won’t ask him to help.”

“And one more thing before you go,” he said. “Stay away from Lydia Martin. Miles away.” He saw the tiny flicker. “Peter Hale, you need to forget you ever met her.”

“No,” he replied. “I can’t promise you that.” He stood up straighter. “She’s too close to this, with more connections to it than _you_ know,” he said. “Walking away from her right now would make her less-safe.”

“I can’t hear this if I'm not getting the whole story,” Stiles said. “Go, Peter.”

The Alpha didn’t say anything when he left. Stiles got out his toolbox and changed the deadbolt. He locked the door and texted Lydia. She told him Scott had left after the morning and he went in to help out.

“Hey, we could’ve handled it,” Lydia said, but he could tell she was glad to see him. He helped out in the stable getting the Weres exercised. It was the most time-consuming activity they did there, but he found himself relaxing as the group played outdoors. They chased each other and wrestled, and he couldn’t help seeing them as human. Just a bunch of mostly naked adults running around playing a modified game of tag. He wondered if he should get some grade school primers and start teaching them about numbers and letters.

“Hey man, sorry you had such a heavy workload for the holiday,” Theo said, jogging up to him. He had a frisbee in his hand and stood beside the Omega as he tossed it. “I wish you’d called me, I would’ve come in. I was just hanging out with my parents, and Christmas is always a drag for us since my sister died.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, “How old would she have been?”

“She was two years older than me, so twenty-seven. She died when I was nine.”

“My mom passed when I was eight. It’s a crappy time to lose someone.” He smiled at Theo. “My dad and I came up with new things to do, but the first few years were rough.” He caught the frisbee as Kira tossed it to him and the other Weres watched as he sent it sailing back to the Were. Malia caught it this time and threw it to Theo. “Now we’re gonna need more frisbees.”

“I could’ve sworn they were trying to hula hoop with a tire swing the other day,” Theo said. “I’m grabbing a beer at Charlie’s if you want to join me later,” he said, casually. “It’s my sister’s birthday, which is why Christmas sucks so much for my parents.”

“Sure, when are you leaving?”

“After this batch gets put away.”


	21. The third man...and the other guy...and two more.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition time...
> 
> Warning for character death in this chapter.

Stiles knew he had to tell someone about what had happened with Peter. He went to Lydia’s house for breakfast and she listened while he told her what he remembered. He cried a little and she hugged him when he said he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know how it had happened.

“My belt was unbuckled, so I had to have done something. I just can’t understand why.”

“Stiles, under normal circumstances, would you turn your back to an unsecured Alpha?”

“No, and Peter’s already so volatile. When he got loose, he got my pants off me because my belt was in the barn.” He told her what Peter had done and what he’d thought of it at the time. “I was already afraid of letting him get close, but I also knew that he responded to me being more personal and less clinical.” He told her about getting him to speak during their impromptu hand job session, and rather than admonish him for his carelessness, Lydia understood.

“It was a breakthrough,” she said. “But I still believe you wouldn’t have ‘dropped trou’ with Peter. I also think it’s very strange that you can’t remember.” She bit her lip and looked thoughtful. “Okay, if Deaton or someone else told you that letting Peter knot you would one hundred percent guarantee the return of his mind, and it was someone you trusted, what would you do?”

“I’d think of it as saving him. I’d take him to the milking room, restrain him and do it there.” He thought about it. “I’d still be too afraid he’d bite me to let him get close without a muzzle, because I’d be tied to him.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’d have also used copious amounts of lubricant to prep myself.”

“Were you hurt?”

“I’m okay, but I can’t think of a reason I’d skip that step.”

“What if someone was holding a gun to your head?” she asked. “Would you go into the stall with Peter unsecured and turn your back to him?”

“I don’t-” He paused. “If I knew I was going to be trapped with him in a stall, the first thing I’d do is drop my pants. Peter’s been unpredictable enough that I’d want to try and pull up a mating instinct instead of a hostile or territorial one.”

“Your instinct is to survive, not to take advantage of a Were.”

“How could it happen?”

“I think someone else was there with us,” Lydia whispered. “I think someone else was in the barn. Someone who said something to me. Someone who moved me from the barn floor to the office and covered me with my coat.”

“Why the coat?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know, maybe courtesy.” Lydia shrugged it off. “I’m glad you told me, Stiles. We need to keep communication open and talk to each other or I’m afraid we’ll end up hurt.”

“I agree.”

With Peter and Boyd gone, Stiles and Lydia focused on Ennis, Derek and Duke. Stiles played the Latin music that Ennis enjoyed during exercise and pulled Lydia into an impromptu tango which delighted the Were. With Lydia standing close, Stiles ‘danced’ with Ennis, turning circles holding his hands and making his feet fall with the beat. When they restrained him afterwards for milking, the big Alpha didn’t seem to mind.

Derek seemed very protective of Lydia and when she walked him past Duke’s stall to take him for exercise, he growled at the blind Alpha.

“Don’t be a bully,” she admonished him, but when it was Duke’s turn to go for exercise, Lydia felt strangely uncomfortable. He was as obedient and cooperative as usual, and she didn’t skimp on the time she spent with him, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling she had. Scott seemed a little steadier after taking a day off to work with Peter, something Stiles didn’t want to hear about, for some reason. She was pleased that Scott was gaining control, but still worried about people finding out about him. She went to see Jackson after work on a Monday and discovered that Ethan and Aiden were twins. She was a little miffed that Aiden had taken Jackson to the grocery store and he’d bought a lot of food; more because he seemed to be hosting the brothers and was feeding them as well.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Aiden said, handing Lydia a cup of coffee. “We don’t usually stay in one place for long, so we don’t leave a paper trail, but it’s hard to keep trying to find a place to stay every few months.”

“We’ve got at least a little experience in a bunch of different jobs,” Ethan added. “We did a lot of day labor for cash out in the Midwest, and we can do basic carpentry like building tables and stuff. We can put up drywall and do basic tile and grout like a kitchen backsplash.”

“I’ll need to get an electrician in to update the outlets and have someone come in to look at the plumbing,” Lydia said. She saw them both eyeing the coffee and picked it up as she went to the kitchen. “There’s an F.B.I. agent who’s been hanging around lately. I’m not sure why he’s interested in me, but either way, I want you guys to clear out for a few days. I’d rather he didn’t get close enough to ask questions.”

“That’s fine,” Aiden said. Ethan was looking at Jackson. “We can do that, it’s no problem. We don’t want to make him suspicious.”

“Thanks, and once the electrical and plumbing is squared away, I think it would be fine for you to move in. Let me know what you’re doing for work and your plans for the next few months.” She looked at her phone and frowned. “I’ve got to run; I’ll take this to go.” She poured the coffee into a travel mug and left, taking care to look around when she went to her car.

She spent most of the day taking care of bills, shopping for groceries, and cleaning her house. When she sorted out her jewelry box something prickled in the back of her mind. She breathed and didn’t chase the fragment but closed her eyes and let her mind relax. She trailed her fingers over the contents of the box but felt something else. The ghost of a touch on her shoulder, the sound of metal hinges creaking, and a soft, unfamiliar voice. _Poor little thing._

Lydia went to the shelter and caught Deaton in the house. He was in the clinic finishing with his last client, an overweight tabby cat.

“Hey, is everything alright?” the vet asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” She frowned and shook her head at the same time. “Just some issues with my rental property and finding a contractor.” She set down her coffee cup, looked at him directly, took a deep breath and pressed a finger to her lips. She went to the dry erase board and wrote out a message:

_If he wanted to, can an Alpha Were hear us speaking in here from the barn?_ She watched Deaton’s face as his expression slowly schooled itself into his poker face. He gave a bare hint of a nod. Lydia nodded and wrote another message. _Someone is trying to mess with my memories._ She cleaned the kitchen and called Jordan to chat about dinner plans that evening until the part-time staff and volunteers had finished their work and locked up the stable Weres. Lydia carefully typed out a text message but didn’t send it. She left the house and went to the barn, where Scott and Stiles were feeding the Alphas. She greeted them both but went directly into the office and looked at the spot on the floor where she’d woken up after the bite. She reached up and tugged at her ear, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose. She pressed send on her text message. _Something is very wrong. Something happened the day of the bite and neither of us can remember. I think we’re in grave danger._ _Don’t say a word._ Memories were triggered by scent more readily than other senses, so she kept her eyes closed, listened and breathed.

Stiles came in behind her but remained quiet; his hand settled on Lydia’s shoulder and they both heard the sound of the gate opening up. Scott was sweeping the floor down near Ennis and Duke’s end of the row and must’ve had his ears turned off, because he didn’t stop what he was doing. Deaton walked in and smiled his usual gentle smile.

Stiles reached up and touched Lydia’s ear. She wore gold hoops today, but different than the one she’d lost…

“Hey, Scotty, can you come here for a minute.” He pulled off his belt and rolled it up before putting it in his pocket.

“Yeah.”

Stiles stepped into the hallway and watched his friend walk towards them. Deaton opened the door and let Chris Argent and Peter Hale step in behind him. He brushed off Lydia’s hand and walked towards his friend. The distance between them looked like it was a million miles. He saw the arm snake out between the bars but was already moving.

“Down!” shouted Peter. Lydia screamed so loudly that the walls shook, and his head rang. Duke typed in his own code manually and opened the stall door in less than a second, but Stiles was already moving. He swiped his card to unlock Ennis’s stall. The big Were wasn’t fond of Duke, and might buy them some time. Derek hit the floor with Peter’s shout, but Scott just stumbled, knees weakened by his Alpha’s command. Stiles grabbed Scott around the head and rolled him onto the floor. Duke was out of the stall, shifted with long claws and the face of a demon.

Ennis roared as Scott pushed himself over Stiles, who wasn’t used to Scott’s new strength. He felt a hand wrap around his ankle as he shoved his hand into his pocket. Scott went flying as Duke tossed him and struck a line of mountain ash that separated them from Deaton, Peter, Chris and Lydia. Scott bounced off it and landed in a heap. Stiles hadn’t seen Deaton make the line, but he knew they were locked in for the moment. Duke roared, but Stiles had already drawn back his fist. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised when he punched the Werewolf, Duke or himself. The Alpha Were staggered back when Stiles popped him on the chin with his belt wrapped around his hand and stood up.

“Scotty?” he called out to his friend who wasn’t moving.

“Stiles, get back here!” Chris shouted.

“Scott?” Deaton called.

Stiles didn’t take his eyes off the shifted Alpha.

“You couldn’t have gotten your memory back,” he purred in his clipped voice. “I took it from you.”

“I didn’t have to,” he replied. He could see Ennis in the doorway, looking uncertain but angry. Clearly someone’s ass needed to be kicked, but the big Were just wasn’t sure whose. “Lydia losing her memory wasn’t too suspicious, she’d lost blood and was going into shock; but both of us? No.” He kept himself between the Weres and Scott. The belt trick was only likely to work once, because the Alpha hadn’t bothered to block it. “Occam’s razor. There had to be a third man.”

“Ironic since that philosophy was used to try and prove miracles.” He frowned. “Lydia, break the ash line or Jackson is dead. I’m tired of being caged.”

“No.” The redhead walked to the line. “I was a math major at M.I.T.”

“What?” Duke laughed and his face dropped the shift. “I’m impressed, but it’s hardly relevant.”

“What she means,” Peter said and walked forward, letting his jacket drop to the floor behind him, “is that she’s done the math. Calculated the odds. She knows who has a better chance. Now Scott!”

Stiles was standing near his friend and didn’t see him move; he was flying through the air and over the ash line, leaving it intact. “Ennis!” Peter barked the other Were’s name as Stiles scrambled to his feet. Lydia’s hands were on him, helping him stand. “Fuck his shit up!” There was an extra edge to his voice, a command in it. The former pit fighter was out of his cage and angry. He rushed the smaller, older Were for whom he’d been storing a lot of resentment. Deaton shoved Lydia and Stiles behind him, and Scott tossed his keys and magnetic card over the ash line, ensuring that Duke couldn’t use them to get into the rest of the stable.

“Ennis can’t use his claws,” Stiles whispered. Despite his setbacks, the years of work that he’d put into Ennis made the Omega’s chest tight as he watched him fight, perversely grateful for the bloodlust. Deaton squeezed his shoulder and Chris tried to aim for Duke, who was sparring with Ennis. Duke was older but had claws and fangs out and was clearly far stronger than Ennis, despite their difference in sizes. He also kept Ennis between himself and the hunter who had a gun pointed at them. The fight was brief, but nasty with Ennis partially tearing Duke’s arm from his shoulder, but in order to grapple, he’d gotten too close.

“No!” Scott shouted, anguished as Ennis was slashed over the neck and chest, and kicked back against his stall. Duke staggered as he tried to put his arm back into place and fell to the floor. Lydia broke the line and Chris and Peter surrounded him. Deaton backed them off and threw a handful of mountain ash into the air and let it settle around Duke. Ennis made a noise and Scott ran into his stall and came out with the stuffed donkey. Lydia and Stiles stayed back out of reach until Deaton crouched with them. He removed the collar, but it was too late for the Were’s shift to save him.

“Good boy, Ennis. You saved Scott. You did so well.” He pressed the donkey into the big Alpha’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it. Praise from his stoic master brightened the Were’s eyes for a moment before the light flickered out and darkened. Lydia wiped her cheeks and turned to look at Duke who was getting to his feet. He managed to hold his arm in the right place while it healed. Chris trained the gun on him and Peter just had his claws out.

“I’m nearly unarmed,” Duke said, without a hint of strain in his voice. “Can we talk now?”

“You could’ve continued to talk earlier,” Lydia said.

“I was surrounded by people who are ignorant of the situation and what I’m doing here.” He shrugged by lifting the bad shoulder with his good arm. It was almost comical except for the blood.

“And you threatened Jackson,” Lydia said.

“Who is Jackson?” Peter asked.

“The Beta Were she’s been hiding from everyone,” Duke said with a big smile. “We’ve all got our little secrets, and how ironic that none of you trusted each other. You’ve been dancing around the solution to your problems the whole time.” Stiles fought the urge to agree with him, but Duke looked directly at the Omega. “I _am_ sorry about what happened to you,” he said, softly. “I needed Peter to come back to his senses and unlock his memories.” He held up his talon-like claws. “Making a Beta was my first choice.”

“What happened after Chris Argent left?” Stiles asked. “What did you take from me?”

“I used these,” he said, holding up his claws, “to get inside your mind. I just wanted you to smuggle him out, but then I saw the night of the break-in from your perspective. I planted a powerful compulsion in your subconscious mind to get you inside the stall. I also planted the suggestion that you were in estrus and your body believed it enough to produce pheromones, and it was enough to let Nature take its course.”

“What does the night of the break-in have to do with this?” Peter asked and Duke turned in his direction.

“You tried to mate-bond Stiles in the woods. You were jealous because you’d discovered evidence of your handler’s _recent_ intimacy with another Alpha Were. When he called out to his _lover_ , you became aggressive in your attempt to put your own claim on the boy and smashed his head on a rock.” Peter remained stoic and didn’t flinch. Lydia looked at Deaton curiously, but the vet put his hands up in innocence and shook his head. Then they both looked at Chris Argent-the other man who’d been in the woods with Stiles-who didn’t take his eyes off Duke.

“Pretty big risk to take with Stiles,” Chris said.

“I don’t think Stiles was aware of how deep the attachment went for Peter’s wolf, but I smelled him every day. He wouldn’t have hurt the Omega he thought of as his mate. Stiles instinctively supplicated when there was even an empty threat of harm.” The naked Alpha was clearly enjoying himself now. His words made the Omega burn with humiliation, but acceptance and support came from an unexpected place.

“Stiles is smart enough to know what he has to in order to survive,” Scott said, coming to his friend’s defense and ignoring the comments about his personal life. Stiles felt the tears on his cheeks but didn’t wipe them away, and Scott rested his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Everyone was quiet for a horrible moment they absorbed the information.

“You’ve been here for over a year, just to save Peter?” Lydia asked, changing the subject.

“Unlocking Peter’s memories gave me the best chance to find out where the toxin was coming from. I also wanted Peter’s assistance. Considering what the toxin made him do to his own niece and Alpha, I thought he’d be on board.” Chris straightened up, and Stiles guessed that he hadn’t told his friend what had happened to Laura. Peter waved away Chris’s concern.

“It’s okay, Chris. I found the report on Laura’s death in the files. There was very little chance it could’ve been anyone but me.” He turned to Duke. “What were you trying to accomplish with the break-in?”

“That wasn’t me,” he said holding up his hands. “It would be counter-productive for me to have put Peter or any of them at risk. The fact that it resulted in moving my plans forward was a happy coincidence.” He turned and smiled at Stiles. “Theo _is_ your culprit, by the way, you were right to suspect him.”

“We all suspected him,” Lydia said.

“Yes, but Stiles was the only one who went out on a date with him to try and catch him.” He looked positively gleeful when Scott turned on him.

“Dude!”

“It was just a beer, not a date, and it would’ve been strange for me to say no under the circumstances.”

“What?” Deaton asked. Stiles told them about Theo’s comment about his sister passing away when he was nine.

“I told him about my mom dying when I was eight, and he said it was near his sister’s birthday and invited me to have a beer with him. It actually would have been out-of-character and more suspicious if I’d said no, even if he was lying.”

“Did you learn anything?” Deaton asked.

“Not really, but I avoided asking him anything about the break-in, or his benefactor, or anything related to him being a criminal flunkie. I decided to stay out of it, and let the cops and you guys handle it.”

“He’s not the flunkie,” Duke said. “He’s the one who planned the whole thing. He hired the would-be thieves over the dark web, not face-to-face. He posed as a farm owner who wanted an Omega and told them he had a few people planted inside who could let them in. He expected them to fail but wanted to see how far they could get and how you lot would respond. You’ve been diligent about not letting people in here often, so he needed to find the weaknesses.”

“Did he say all of this while you were on the property?” Deaton asked.

“He said enough, I’ve had people looking into it for a while.”

“So, they’re planning to do it again?” Chris asked.

“Quite soon.”

“Can’t we just grab him, stuff him in a trunk, beat the daylights out of him and throw him out of the car in Mexico or something?” Stiles asked.

“I have a better idea,” Peter said with a small smile.

“No, we have no idea if Duke is telling the truth,” Deaton said. “He’s been hearing us speak and could easily be making up a narrative that paints him in a better light.”

“I’ve already admitted to the _worst_ of it,” Duke said, darkly. He clearly disliked his honesty being questioned.

“What about Isaac,” Lydia said quietly, and the others looked back at the Were with renewed disgust.

“I think the people who _fed_ the baby to the monster are at least equally responsible when the monster eats it.” He probably felt the chill in the air. “The one you’ve named Isaac isn’t what he seems,” he added. “He’s one of the few surviving members of my pack, and he volunteered for the mission.” Chris’s head rose, sharply.

“Where did you send him?”

“Before I came here, I took great pains to place my remaining pack members where they’d be safe. I blocked their memories of me, and their language. I put suggestions into them which would give them the best shot as survival. I practically gift-wrapped Isaac to get him placed with people in the hunter community.”

“We don’t keep Weres.”

“Many of you keep Judas Weres.” The group fell silent. “I’d been looking for the Hales after losing most of my pack and found that others had experienced similar losses. I’d even been in contact with Laura before she returned to Beacon Hills which is why I knew where to look for Peter when she died, and he and Derek disappeared.” He looked serious. “We were both trying to find answers six years ago. I went underground with what remained of my pack and started planning and placing my Betas where they’d be safe.” Stiles and Peter both looked at Derek. “Yes, Derek and Isaac were obviously kept together at some point before Derek came here, but I lost track of Isaac for a while. When an associate of mine found him, he ensured that Isaac would be found by Chris and brought here.” Stiles saw a flicker of understanding cross Chris’s face. “I’d had no idea he would present as Omega when I sent him out. We’re still bonded, even if it’s subconscious. I couldn’t be his Alpha properly while in a cage, so I did my best by helping him with his heat symptoms.”

“I’m curious about who you intended for Peter to bite,” Deaton said. “You must have had at least one human accomplice.”

“Indeed,” Duke said with a smile, “and I think this would be a good time to ask-”

“Uh-uh,” Lydia said, waving at the Were dismissively. “I think we’re good now.” She turned her back to Duke and looked at Peter. “Peter, when you woke up, who did you smell in here other than the people here tonight?” Lydia asked.

“Two other Weres, and an unknown human male who’s been here twice,” he replied. “I’m assuming one of the Weres is Boyd, because his scent is all over and he was in that stall.”

“Can you tell how recently?”

“The unknown human and Were had scents that were fresh the day I woke up. Like they were right there with me.”

“Anything distinctive about the human?” Lydia was focused now.

“He carried a gun. Or at least he usually has one on him.” Peter looked at Chris. “I’m used to that smell. He wore leather shoes, deodorant but no aftershave.”

“Thanks,” Lydia said. She turned her back on Duke and looked at Deaton. “I’m pretty certain I know what happened, and Scott, let me see the back of your neck.”

Stiles was always impressed when Lydia was in genius-mode. He was feeling fragile enough to let her take the lead. She looked around the barn and bit her lip before turning to Chris and Peter.

“What do you want us to do?” Chris asked.

“We need to get him secure,” she replied, gesturing to Duke dismissively. “If he can get out of his stall, we need to put him someplace else.”

“We can help each other,” Duke said, quietly. “We all still want to catch the people responsible for the toxin.”

“We’ll still keep you safe, Duke.” Deaton turned to the Were. “And yes, we can cooperate, but we can’t trust you to not warn your associates to attack us.” He took out a tranquilizer. “I’m going to put you under and get you secured so my people are safe. I’m not going to harm you unless you try to escape or hurt someone. You’ve stayed quiet long past the point when you should’ve come to us for help. You could’ve prevented the bites which nearly cost Lydia her life and have turned Scott unwillingly into a Werewolf.” He stepped closer with the benign look on his face. “Not to mention what you did to Stiles and Peter.”

“How is that different than what you’ve been doing to all of them on a weekly basis?” Duke asked.

“We met their clinical needs and socialized them to the best of our abilities with the information we were given. You could’ve ended this long ago by coming to us. It shouldn’t have taken you more than a few weeks to figure out that I’ve been researching this for a long time. You withheld information that could have helped all of us and prevented some deaths because you want control. I’m not going to make deals with you until I’ve checked out your story and found your accomplices.” He took a tranquilizer injector out of his pocket and shot the Were three times in the chest. “We’ll talk when you wake up.”

~

Stiles went to the building Lydia owned and used a pillowcase filled with mountain ash to lay a barrier almost all the way around the base. He did it quickly, and without making much noise. When he was finished, he returned to the car where Lydia, Chris and Peter waited.

“Where are the humans?”

“If they’re home, they’re mostly on the first floor. I’ve been doing renovations.”

“I can’t hear anything above the second floor. If they were here, they’re gone now,” Peter said. “Could they be someplace else?”

“It’s possible.” Lydia took out her cell phone and called Jackson. Peter twitched and pointed to the building. She ended the call. “The phone’s still in the apartment?”

“A phone rang up there when you called and stopped when you hung up,” Peter replied. “I can check it for Weres, if you want. Just to make sure they’re not in someone else’s apartment.”

“No, lets go back to my house. I can secure it pretty easily, and we can make a plan there. I don’t like being out in the open like this.”

Lydia seemed pensive on the drive over and Stiles reached out to take her hand. Chris and Peter checked the house and then the group sat together at the table.

“Now that we don’t have Duke gloating at us,” Peter began, “can you tell me how you figured things out, Stiles?”

“Like I said, the third man theory made the most sense, but Chris said after he left to go to the hospital, he turned back when he heard a howl.”

“Right,” Chris said.

“And you came back. Why?”

“Because it wasn’t Peter,” he said.

“You said _another_ Were had howled. And why do they usually howl loudly enough to be heard from a distance?” He looked at Peter.

“Communicating with other Weres,” Peter said. “Distress call, grief, or for a mate. We have no reason to communicate with humans that way.”

“It didn’t mean anything at the time; not until Lydia texted me. I’d already had my third man theory, but I thought it was from outside. Lydia told me not to say anything out loud, it clicked that the Were who’d howled still had a pack somewhere, so it had to be the third man. After I woke up in Peter’s stall, Ennis and Derek were both watching us all, but Duke wasn’t paying any attention, that’s not like him.” He turned to Lydia. “How did you figure it out?”

“Like you said it all made sense. I taught Jackson, my pet Were, to read and talk when I was little. He was too smart to waste his intelligence on doing dog tricks and being a servant. We used to role-play from Disney movies, and he pretended to be all of my princes. People mistook him for human when I used to take him for walks, and I realized he could pretend to be one. At first it was a joke to me, then I realized it was about survival. I realized how much a Were could learn if they were disregarded.”

“We all had our moments of clarity,” Stiles said.

“Anyway, I had a third man theory of my own because someone moved me from the barn to the office and put my coat on me.”

“What do you think happened?”

“He took my memories and got me to open the door for his Beta and human accomplice; we already know they were both inside the barn the same day, and they couldn’t get in without a human.” She looked at Chris. “Scott could still open the doors the day he was bitten,” she said. “How much time is there between when you get the bite and when mountain ash will repel you?”

“It took me four days,” Chris said. “I was badly injured though, so there was a lot to heal.” He let out a deep breath as Lydia smiled. “I still have trouble saying it out loud.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said. “I won’t say anything, not even to Jordan.”

“About Jordan,” Peter said. “He’s not one of us, but I think he’s something else.” He scratched his head. “Either way, I’m fine using whatever resources we have. What about Scott’s father? I’m not sure I trust the F.B.I.”

“I wouldn’t,” Stiles said. “They’re all way too nosy.”

“What do we do about the twins and Isaac?” Chris asked.

“I can work with Isaac,” Peter said. “Duke claimed that he blocked the memories, he didn’t remove them. I may be able to unlock them. Usually only a Pack Alpha does it, but in some of my shadier moments, I’ve taken memories right after they’ve happened, or searched for answers.” He stopped suddenly and stood up with Chris a heartbeat behind him. “Three Weres, coming in fast from three sides.”

“Did Duke get lose and meet up with the twins?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Lydia said. “It’s not Duke.” She turned around and held up a hand as Chris took aim at the picture window near the kitchen. “Isn’t that right, Jackson?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time with Ennis's death. More of his history will come up later. Still can't get consistent formatting.


	22. Friendships finished, family found.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting up the final arc.

It would’ve been more dramatic if Jackson had stepped through the door right after Lydia’s comment to answer her with an _And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids!_ Instead, Stiles had waited anxiously while Peter provided running commentary.

“One of them is panicking and whining. The other two are telling him it doesn’t matter... And now they’ve heard me talking. Now they’re quiet, and the little one’s scratching his ass... Now he stopped but he's wondering how I know he's smaller...Yes, boys I can hear you very well. Yes, I’m a pack Alpha. You’re welcome to come in here to talk if you’d like, but you need to use the door and wipe your feet.” He looked at Lydia. “Scratch that, you’ll need to take off your shoes.”

The front door opened a moment later and a lean, young man walked in. He took off his shoes and slowly removed his coat before hanging it up on the hook in the hallway. He was very handsome with chiseled features, blue eyes and nice hair. He came in with his head ducked a little and leaned on the wall.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, looking down at his feet.

“The jacket,” she said. He turned around to look at his coat and Stiles saw her roll her eyes. “The day Peter bit me, you were there, and you covered me up with my coat.” He looked surprised. “You probably didn’t even realize you did it, but you tucked me in every night for almost fifteen years.”

“I was your slave,” he said, defiantly.

“Not by my choice,” she replied. “I don’t blame you for resenting me just because I'm human, but nobody had to actually tell me that you deserved an education.” She looked back to the doorway where the twins were loitering. “How long?” she asked.

“Just before Duke came here. I met Ethan and Aiden and they introduced me to Duke. He wanted to know about the shelter.”

“Why’re you telling her?” asked one of the twins.

“Because Duke’s plan almost got her killed, and it didn't work because he's still captive.”

“He's captive because he attacked us,” Stiles said, holding out his hand. “I’m Stiles, by the way.” He waited and Jackson clenched his jaw before reaching forward and clasping it. “I think we met when I was younger, but not formally.”

“Jackson Whittemore,” he replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

~

Lydia made a brief speech to the three Weres. Very brief.

“We’re investigating the origin of the toxin. Duke said he was doing the same thing. If you’ve got anything to share with us that can help us take down the people who made it and are using it, we’d love to hear it.”

“Duke was sure that Peter would have answers,” Aiden said.

“I don’t. I never saw who shot me.” Both twins deflated when he said that. Chris spoke up next, giving Stiles a look.

“I have suspicions, and we’re going to put all of our intel together. If you have something useful to add, do it now. If you have any other little spies hanging around, let us know. Too many people have been hurt as a result of your little group, so keeping secrets is no longer an option. This is the only time you’re going to be given the opportunity to participate as a partner. Take a moment to think about it, but you’re not leaving until we have an answer.” Ethan looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke.

“I understand why you don’t trust us, but the Omega you call Isaac’s our packmate. We haven’t seen him in years and if Peter doesn’t remember, Isaac probably will. Duke needs to get that from him.”

“Duke killed Ennis and attacked us. We’re not letting him near Isaac until we’ve had a chance to look first.” Peter said. “I’ve been doing that kind of thing since I was a Beta, so I'll take a peek.” He looked at the trio. “You may have had good intentions, or at least a positive outcome in mind when you came here, but your silence and deceit has let to the harm of my family, people I care for, and you've caused deaths in my territory. ”

"That was Duke," Jackson said, defiantly. Peter raised an eyebrow at Ethan.

"He's our Alpha, our actions are collective in another wolf's territory." Ethan and Aiden seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Good answer," Peter said. "I'll make you a deal, too. I will forgive you for your behavior up until this point, and we do understand why you've kept secrets, but your Alpha made some bad decisions and now we find ourselves here. So you're going to cooperate with us, and you'll be welcome to stay if you assist when we need you. If you have nothing to offer and you don't want to help, we'll consider you neutral and you may leave town,” Peter said, “but you do it right now, shirts on your backs, and you never return.”

“Why?” Jackson asked. Peter spoke again. His voice was smooth and soft, but there was an energy behind his voice that kept listeners on edge.

"As much as I can relate to your circumstances, I won't let you hide in my territory while I assume all the risks. I also won't let an ungrateful freeloader who stabs his benefactor in the back stay in the building she owns for another night unless he's working on earning back a little good karma." He tilted his head with a manic gleam as he eyed Jackson. "Simple enough? You either redeem yourselves, and become part of the team, you leave with your freedom and no retaliation, or you lie and leave in trash bags. And do please remember that I will know if you’re lying.” He flicked out his claws and tapped them on the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’m split between cooperating and leaving,” Aiden said. “There are some things we can’t say because our Alpha compelled us. It’s not directly lying, but we still can’t tell you.”

“I’m willing to extend some good will, for a good faith piece of intel.”

“The human came to us recently,” Jackson said. “I’m also pretty sure Lydia already knows who it is,” he said.

“Why?” Ethan asked.

“Because she fucking knows everything!” Jackson exploded with hurt and resentment and for a moment, Stiles felt a little bit bad for him. He hadn’t been allowed to go to school and become as smart as her. It was unfair.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you,” Peter said. “I've got connections, so I’ll sweeten the deal and fake you some education and credentials so you can get a job. I’ve also got enough money to set you up with an apartment in another city.”

Jackson gave Lydia a guilty glance, but he’d made his plans clear.

“I’ll help you, but Duke’s gonna be pissed, so I’ll need a new Pack.”

“You’re leaving us?” Ethan reached for his shoulder.

“Duke said Lydia wouldn’t get hurt. He could be cooperating right now and working to catch the people who make this stuff. He could’ve done it a long time ago. I’m sick of living hand-to-mouth and looking over my shoulder." He glanced around at the other two wolves. "I want my own life.”

“Fine,” Aiden said to Peter. “We’ll tell you what we know, but we want Duke to be safe.”

“We’ve already told him we won’t harm him unless he tries something. All he has to do is cooperate, or just avoid interfering, and he’ll be released.”

“There’s something else,” Ethan said. “There’s two more members of our pack who’re missing. Two girls, late teens or early twenties, they were at school when we lost our pack. I think Duke did something to them like what he did for Isaac. Took some of their memories so they could hide more easily.”

“Until we’re safe, it’s best to keep them away.”

“That’s just it, I think they’re at the shelter, I smelled them on Lydia’s clothes and on the grounds.”

“Who?”

“Duke took their names from us, he didn’t want us to be able to tell people who they are if we got caught, but he did say that if anything happened to him, and you regained your mind, that you’d help.”

“Help what?” Peter looked confused.

“Help find them. One of them is a Hale. Adopted as a baby from a member of your family. It was kept secret.”

“I don’t remember anyone having a baby twenty years ago.”

“Talia took the memory,” Chris said. Everyone turned to look at him. “You invited me down for the weekend and I flew from Chicago. Do you remember that?”

“You surprised me.” He tilted his head and looked at Chris. “I remember waking up and you were there after a nap.”

“You called me because you’d gone to Baja for Spring Break and you’d gotten a girl pregnant down there. She didn’t want it, and Talia said she’d arrange an adoption. You were a teenager, and you said you wouldn’t be able to stay away if you knew about her, but that you believed she’d have a better life with someone else. You asked Talia to take the memory away so you wouldn’t be tempted to find her. She ordered me not to tell you about it, but she wanted there to be a witness in case you ever ran into her and she wasn’t around.”

“What happened to her adoptive parents?” Lydia asked.

“Her mother and sister died in a car accident. Her father had a lot of problems after that, and she came to stay with us.”

“What about the other girl?” Peter asked.

“That was taken too, he only left us info on the Hale in case we couldn't find her.”

“Okay, who’s up for a trip?” Stiles asked.

“Who’s the human?” Chris asked.

“Agent Jones,” Stiles and Lydia spoke at the same time. They looked at each other and grinned.

“The F.B.I. kid?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, he was following Lydia around, found us, and said he’d help in return for being turned,” Jackson said. “I think he’s got some kind of sickness and he’ll get kicked out if anyone knows about it.”

“How did he find out about you?” Chris asked.

“He’s known for a while about us, he didn’t say how, but he needed to get access to a Pack Alpha.” Jackson shrugged. “When we went to the barn after the bites, Duke was angry because Jones couldn’t get in to see Isaac.”

“We change the codes whenever there’s a visitor,” Lydia said.

“Duke is taking this guy into the pack?” Peter looked doubtful.

“He was smart enough to find us, and he’s the first one who has.”

“Having a Beta with the F.B.I. would seem like a good idea to some,” Chris said. He saw the look on Peter’s face. “Don’t even think about it. Feds are born rats. They’ll squeal at the first sign of trouble to save their own asses.”

“Fair enough,” Peter said. “How’s this? Let’s head back to the shelter and find Isaac, sound good?”

Jackson and Ethan stayed at Lydia’s house, and Aiden rode with her. Chris drove Peter and when they offered Stiles a ride, he opted to go with Lydia, claiming to want to keep an eye on Aiden. When he told Lydia this, the Were sneered.

“As if you could take a Were in a fight.”

“Your Alpha couldn’t take me today.”

“Way I heard it, he had you squealing under Peter like a pig,” Aiden gave a vicious smile. Stiles just smiled and braced himself as Lydia slammed on the brakes. She turned around and faced the Were.

“Apologize,” she said.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Aiden growled.

“Your Alpha is skating on a knife’s edge because of what he did to Peter and Stiles,” Lydia said. “His value to us is minimal right now because he didn’t come forward; we figured him out. Pity is what keeps him alive, not his control. You will apologize now, and you won’t even look at him again until he gives you permission, or I’ll see that you get used as a relief Beta at the junkyard in Sacramento.” She pushed up her sunglasses and focused her green eyes on him. “Now.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Aiden said, and actually sounded sorry when he continued. “None of us were laughing when Duke told us about Peter coming back. He brushed it off, but he was bothered by it.” He looked out the window. “You don’t know what it’s like to see it happen.”

“What?” Stiles looked at him as Lydia pulled out onto the road again.

“The toxin. They used a few snipers, or one really good one because none of us saw it coming. They shot six people with the toxin during a birthday party.” He cleared his throat. “My cousins, my friends, people I’ve known my whole life started attacking everyone around them.” He cleared his throat again. “There were kids. Babies. Ethan and I went out to try and stop them, but they were shifted, and they just went berserk. Duke started slashing throats when a mother killed her own son.” He sniffled. “It was his party. He was eight, it was Isaac’s brother Cam. In the end, we were the only ones left standing. Isaac’s dad tried to kill him, but Duke got him first.” He wiped his cheeks. “Duke was hurt really bad, it’s how he lost his sight, that’s why he was willing to put himself in a cage and get treated like an animal in a zoo. That’s why Isaac agreed to go primitive and let Duke program him to be a spy. He told Duke he didn’t care what he had to do in order to find the people who did it.”

“What about Ennis and Kali?”

“Duke thinks they were the test subjects. He and Kali found Ennis’s pack dead. He could tell from where the bodies were that Ennis had done most of it. He didn’t find Ennis for a while, then Kali disappeared and he thinks she killed two of her own pups. He said he wouldn’t want her to come back after that.”

“How do you guys talk?”

“We come to the fence line and talk to him in the middle of the night. We can hear him fine, and vice versa.”

“I’m sorry about your pack,” Lydia said.

“I know using people isn’t right, but when you’ve been searching for years, and you get so close, you end up doing things you never thought you’d do.”

Deaton was in the barn at the shelter with Scott. When Aiden walked in Deaton snapped a pair of mountain ash cuffs on him and a shifting collar.

“I won’t apologize for this, but it’s only temporary.” He brought Aiden into the stable with Scott so he could identify his packmates. After a few minutes, Deaton and Aiden came back alone. “You were right Stiles, he’s identified Malia and Kira as his packmates. Peter, what do you want to do?”

“I think I need to be more focused on Isaac at the moment.” He was looking at the door to the stable with a troubled expression. "We should have a plan for the next step, too.” He looked around at the group. “The F.B.I. agent is a complication, so is Theo, but I think finding out what Isaac knows is paramount as well as trying to get Derek back.”

“I agree,” Deaton said. “Once we know who it is, then we can decide about our next course of action.

Stiles went to get Isaac and when he returned with the Omega Were, Isaac looked around for Duke and whined at his empty stall. He went to Derek’s stall next and they embraced through the de-electrified bars. Derek smiled and rubbed the curly hair, which was getting long again. Deaton had cleaned up the floor, but Isaac seemed distressed at Ennis and Boyd’s absences.

“Hey, man. Remember me?” Aiden called out to Isaac. The Omega was curious and pawed at the Alpha. “You presented as an Omega, who’d have guessed? You’re so tall.” Isaac went over to Chris for a little light flirting, which made Peter laugh and pinch Isaac’s side, playfully. The Omega Were’s sweet innocence was infectious. He let Aiden squeeze his hands. “I missed you, Buddy.”

“We should do this in the clinic,” Deaton said. “I’d rather he didn’t associate any other place with what we’re doing.”

“Will it hurt him?” Aiden asked.

“It shouldn’t,” Peter said. “But if he gets his memories back, he might be upset. Try not to disturb us, but if something comes up, don’t be afraid to knock.” He looked at Aiden, who’d filled the Alpha in on what had happened to their pack. “Once I’m confident that Dukes story is on the level, he’s free to go.”

Isaac followed Deaton after giving Lydia a quick hug and letting Peter take his hand to lead him to the clinic. Once the door closed, Scott came out.

“What are their real names?” Lydia asked.

“Duke took their names away so we couldn’t ever tell anyone.” He shrugged. “Isaac, Malia and Kira work fine.”

“It could be a while we can take them to the enclosure so they can run around with Derek. He’s gotta be lonely without Boyd.”

Lydia and Chris went to the enclosure with Aiden and the others. Stiles went to the office to call his father. He gave John the rundown on Duke planting himself in the barn, Isaac, the twins, Kali and Ennis, and Jackson’s story. He told him that Duke had played with his mind and influenced him before taking the memory. His father was upset but agreed to not ask about the details right away, since Stiles was still adjusting.

“Do you think it’ll work?” John asked. “The claw thing with Peter?”

“He’s said he has experience, and that being Pack Alpha would only give him better control. I just hope Isaac has some answers that we can find. I also hope Derek can be brought out a little easier than Peter.”

“Let’s hope, Son.”

“Theo was behind the break-in. According to Duke, he used the thieves’ failure as a test run to find our weaknesses and see how we’d respond. Still, it seems strange to have that many people working to kidnap an Omega. I know they’re valuable, but that’s a lot of people to split up the money, and not without risk because we’d come looking for him.”

“Is there another reason they’d be breaking-in? I mean, they did go into the Alpha barn, after all.”

“That always bothered me,” Stiles said. “They weren’t equipped to transport an Alpha Were.”

“Maybe they weren’t there to transport them.” John’s voice got quiet. “Duke thought that Peter would have information on the people who have the toxin, right?”

“Right.” He sucked in a breath. “Riiiiight.”

“They didn’t want to _steal_ anyone.”

“They wanted to kill them.” Stiles stood up so fast he banged his thighs on his desk. He was on a roll now an couldn’t stop his thoughts. “Remember? They blocked the bridge too, maybe they were testing emergency response time.”

“Right, the police wouldn’t get there until they were gone.”

“The police got there eventually, and an ambulance.”

“The fire truck had to wait until the bridge was clear because…it can’t cross the river on the old covered bridge.”

“They don’t need to get through our security system, if they burn them out. Maybe make it look like an accident, or extreme anti-Were groups, because who else would deliberately kill a valuable Omega.” Stiles scratched his head and turned to look at Chris argent who’d just appeared in the doorway. “I’ve gotta go, Dad.”

“I’m sending an extra unit by tonight.”

“If Jordan’s working, send him.”

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked when Stiles hung up. “Your heart started beating really fast.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Aiden?” Stiles brushed past the hunter and jogged over to the enclosure. Aiden was near the door. “Did Duke tell you when Theo was planning to break in again?”

“No, he just said it would probably be soon. I don’t think he had the date, yet. If he did he would’ve wanted us close by so he’d have told us. Why?”

“It’s possible they’re not planning to steal Isaac,” he said, “They might be eliminating witnesses.” He turned to Lydia when he said the last part. “The night of the break-in, it made no sense for them to break into the Alpha barn, but I thought they might’ve taken all of the security down because they didn’t know where Isaac was. They were also careless when they shot through the door, because Isaac could’ve been directly behind it, and if they needed him alive, they wouldn’t risk their payout.” Lydia’s eyes went to Derek who was playing with the girls. “And they shot both Derek and Peter, but I chalked it up to Derek and Peter attacking them.

“They must believe that they can be identified.” She suddenly brightened, “Maybe they know of a way it can be reversed and that’s why they tried to kill Weres that are still feral.”

“For now, yes. But remember how they delayed help by blocking the bridge?”

“Yeah.”

“The police cars were able to go over the old covered bridge and get here, but not the pump truck. I think they wanted to see the response time of the fire department.”

“Oh, God! The barn is entirely made of wood. They’ll burn it.” Lydia put her hands over her mouth. “Shit!”

“Dad figured it out, he’s sending someone over in case something’s happening tonight.”

“I need to call Jordan.” Lydia called Derek again who reluctantly jogged back over. Malia and Kira followed Scott, and Chris Argent was on his phone, talking to someone. He hung up and put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, talking to him softly. 

“We need to evacuate,” Stiles said, and Chris nodded.

“I called in some help.”

“You didn’t call Allison, did you?”

“No, she’s in Los Angeles with Kate.” He pressed his lips together. “I called someone I trust with our lives. She’s a good friend, but she’s not going to be thrilled to talk to you or the others, so she might keep her distance. Either way, she’s going to bring some…friends and they’ll watch the roads and the bridge.”

“We need to tell Deaton,” Stiles paused. “Where did he put Duke?”

“I think he’s in the house,” Aiden said, looking uncomfortable. “I can feel him, he’s close.” He glanced around. “I’m just a Beta, I can’t hear as well as Duke, but if you have a window, I can stand near it and listen for anyone coming.”

“What do we do with them?” Lydia asked. She was holding Derek’s hand and standing near his stall. The tall Were was eyeing Chris suspiciously. The hunter went over and gently held out his hand. Reluctantly, Derek stepped forward and let himself be scented. Chris would likely smell like Peter, but also like guns.

“One of the stalls?” he suggested. “Keep them together and put them in one that hasn’t been used.” Stiles looked at Chris. “Can you hear what they’re saying in the clinic?”

“They’re not talking. Deaton was for a little while, but now they’re both quiet.”

“I don’t want to go to the house without talking to Deaton, but I think we need to find some clothes for the girls _and_ Derek.”

“You want to take them out of here?”

“Yes. The stable can withstand fire more easily than the barn, and we can put the stable Weres in the upper field which is secure, but far enough away that they’ll be safe until we can get them placed.” He took his phone out of his pocket and made a call. “Heather, it’s Stiles. How’s it going?”

Chris glanced up at the clinic as Deaton came back out. His face looked as benign as it usually did. When he reached the floor, he gave Lydia a quick smile.

“He’s making progress, Isaac is just taking a break,” he said. “He’s able to access some of his memories from the last few years, but he hasn’t found where Duke locked him away from his own.” He glanced around. “What’s wrong.”

“Did you see the inside of the van that the intruders used for the original break-in?”

“Yes, it was a pretty basic one, a little equipment in the back with the front seats and one bucket seat,” Deaton said. “If they drugged Isaac, they could’ve probably rolled him up in a blanket and left him in the back.”

“What if kidnapping wasn’t their goal?” Chris asked. He nodded as Stiles came up. “We might have reason to believe that stealing Isaac wasn’t the goal, or at least their only goal, and that the Alpha barn was also on their list.”

“Possible, but they couldn’t have transported them.” Deaton’s face changed after he spoke.

“I think they were planning to kill Isaac, Peter, and Derek.”

“Witnesses,” Deaton whispered.

“I also think they blocked the bridge to see how long the firetrucks would take, because there could be police vehicles anywhere in the county and they could get here pretty quickly, but the firetrucks can’t come over the covered bridge.”

“They’re going to burn us.” Deaton said it dispassionately.

“What did you find out about Theo’s benefactor?”

“Very little, I spoke with someone claiming to work for her.”

“Her?” Chris asked.

“Yes, Theo said it was his aunt.”

“Wasn’t the handler who had Kali a woman?” Stiles asked. “If she had Kali, she might’ve captured her when she went after the pack.”

“Kali could’ve been bought and sold a dozen times. Problematic Weres are usually shuffled around, so it could be her, but I wouldn’t count on it just from that.”

“She was interested in buying Derek too, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, coming up to them. “By the way, my mom said our basement is windowless and we’ve been getting it ready for the full moon. Peter checked it out and said it would be easy enough to seal.”

“Are we bringing these guys there?” Stiles asked, pointing to Derek, Malia and Kira.”

“Yeah, can we get them some clothes?” Scott asked. “I think it’ll be easier to smuggle them in if they’re not…naked.”

“I’ll handle that,” Lydia said. “I’m running to my house now, and I can get them something to wear.” She eyed Derek critically. I’ll ask Jordan to meet me there, he might have something for Derek.”

“I can get Derek something,” Deaton said. “I’ll need to speak to Duke again, anyway.” He noticed Aiden’s nervous shift. “He’s probably conscious again and can likely hear you.” He turned and left as Aiden paled.

“Are you afraid of your Alpha?” Chris asked.

“He doesn’t usually discipline us, but he had to kill his own Betas to save our lives. That changes you, irrevocably, and we don’t like disappointing him.”

“I lost most of my pack in a single night,” Chris said. “I was transitioning to another pack, but I was still connected, and feeling my Alpha die was horrible. I can’t imagine how bad it was for you.”

The door to the clinic opened and Peter came out. He shut the door behind him and walked over to Chris and Stiles. He was sweaty and looked tired, but steady. Just as he reached them, his head snapped around and he focused on the stall with the three Weres. Malia was rubbing Kira’s arm but after a moment, her head snapped up too, and her eyes met Peter’s. She looked confused and curious and walked to the bars. They weren’t electrified which was good because she bumped straight into them without noticing.

“Peter?” Deaton stood near the Alpha. “Can you identify one of these girls as a Hale?”

“Yes,” What’s her name?” he asked, moving to where Malia was.

“We call her Malia,” Lydia said. She and Kira and Isaac all bonded quickly. According to Aiden, she’s a member of the pack.”

“She’s my daughter,” Peter reached forward and gently touched her cheek with his hand. “She looks a bit like Talia, but I don’t know what her mother looked like.” He pulled back and turned to the group. “Family reunion later. I haven’t opened Isaac back up to his old consciousness, but I did look at his memories since he’s been here, and I think I know when Theo’s planning his attack.”

~

Stiles was relieved to hear that Theo’s planned attack wasn’t for another three weeks. It gave them time to plan and mobilize.

Deaton told Stiles that none of the staff had been told about any of the issues inside the Alpha barn.

“So, they’ll all keep assuming we’ve got a full house?”

“Yes, and although Boyd’s departure will explain a slight drop in production, they will notice when the essence source has suddenly disappeared.”

“Can we say we did exams on them so they all needed to be tranquilized?” They didn’t sell the essence that came out of a Were when they had any kind of drugs in their system.

“That will work for a day or two, but after that we’ll need to come up with a better story.” He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps we could say the machine broke.”

“Or I could keep distributing,” Peter said. “You know, keep up appearances and only take a small cut of the profits.”

“If you’re not comfortable, we’ll just make something up.” Deaton was smiling.

“Ennis produced more essence than anyone, but it’s easy to say we’re selling it for stud purposes,” Lydia said. “Duke and Derek did produce a lot.”

“If Derek actually _needs_ to get…milked, you can certainly collect it,” Peter said.

“He used to a schedule, but he might be okay if he’s in a different place.”

“So, you need to explain, or produce enough essence for at least three Alpha Weres?” Peter looked over at Chris and smiled. “How do you test for quality?”

“Forget it.”

“We’ll talk later.” Peter said with wink and Aiden snickered. When Chris gave him a dirty look, he put up his hands.

“I’d do it, but I’m a Beta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn to come shortly...pun intended.


	23. Every three months...oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little exposition and then I need to update my relationships tag.

Duke gave a gesture of good faith by restoring Kira and Malia. It made housing them a little easier since they didn’t need to be put in the basement. Kira stayed with Melissa and Scott while Malia stayed with Peter. Stiles sensed a little bit of tension and Kira admitted over a bowl of popcorn while watching Star Wars that she and Malia hadn’t been intimate before joining the wild pack.

“We both dated guys before, and I’m not sure how we’re supposed to act with each other now.” The pretty girl leaned her head back against Stiles’s bed from where she sat on his floor. “I mean, it doesn’t mean we’re together now, and it doesn’t mean we have to keep doing it.”

“What do you want?”

“I love her, but I don’t want her to be my girlfriend.” She frowned. “I can remember my _wild_ time, and I think we were motivated by loneliness and familiarity.” Her cheeks got pink. “I also think Scott’s avoiding me,” she said.

“Why?”

“Apparently I…presented…a few…dozen times…to him.” She cleared her throat and shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “How do you get past it and try to be friends with someone who’s been washing you, feeding you, and taking care of you while you acted like a primitive creature?”

“I’ve no idea,” Stiles replied. “I’m still working on it.” He didn’t mention Malia not only presenting to him during her stay at the stable, but also getting handsy when she was bathed.

Isaac was coming around slowly, and because the compulsions in his mind were strong, Duke wanted to make his transition gradual in order to retain as much memory as possible. Duke could see while shifted, so he’d been walking around in that state. To everyone’s surprise, he asked to remain in his old stall, with better furnishings, of course. Isaac stayed with him, sharing the bed that Stiles and Duke had put in there. The human wasn’t certain about the nature of their relationship, and while having tea with Duke one morning, he asked.

“How old is Isaac?”

“He’s almost twenty,” Duke replied. When Stiles looked confused, he continued. “Isaac was a late bloomer, and quite small and timid growing up. Unfortunately, it meant he was often the target of bullies. His father tended to be harder on him because of it, and that made things worse.”

“You couldn’t do anything about it?” Stiles asked, looking over at Isaac who was sprawled on his back on the bed. He was sleeping, limbs akimbo, and snoring quietly.

“It wasn’t my place. An Alpha Werewolf is a kind of reservoir who holds the pack bonds and keeps them safe. What makes a person capable of being a Pack Alpha isn’t their size or strength, it’s the depth of their _well_. It’s how much power they’re capable of holding. That’s where the capacity presents itself. We can exert our will over that of others, because we can draw on the pool of power contained in the bonds. We can also boost our Betas strength when necessary. It takes practice, but the basics are instinctual. Either way, it’s not my place to control every aspect of each family. I made sure Isaac knew he could come to me to talk, as a friend.”

“How did he avoid presenting as Omega?”

“Stress and anxiety probably held a lot back, but physically, he also matured more slowly. The symptoms of baby heats in an Omega are fairly similar to the ruts of Betas and Alphas. The self-lubrication doesn’t develop until the uterine sac and ovarian buds are fully formed, and that’s where the majority of the change in pheromones comes from.”

“Could his mental change have had anything to do with it?”

“I’m afraid that’s above my paygrade.” He sipped his tea again and cringed when a fang caught the edge of the cup. “I’ve never been anything to Isaac but his Alpha and mentor. I understand why you might not believe me, but I never had designs on the boy. When he regains his consciousness, he’ll have to remember seeing his mother kill his little brother and his father trying to kill him. He’ll sadly also remember me killing both of them in order to save his life.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “It might break him, and I thought that if I’d let things take their course, he might have to live with the memory of being bred by several feral Alphas during his heat.” He looked Stiles in the eye. “I appreciate you meeting with me and listening, but I understand if you can’t forgive me for what I’ve done to you.” He looked at his hands. “I’m not the same person I was before I killed my own Betas.”

“Aiden said something to that effect.”

“He’s right, but it doesn’t make me any less aware.” He nodded to Stiles. “I’ve no right to seek your forgiveness, and I won’t expect more than your civility.”

“Is that why you’re answering such personal questions?”

“Yes. There’s some part of me that’s still human enough to want to try and make it up to you.”

“I’m…glad you’re being candid,” Stiles said, diplomatically.

Stiles finished work and was just driving out of the shelter’s lot when his phone rang. Despite his better judgement, he answered Chris Argent’s call on blue tooth.

“Can you come by the house, Stiles?” the Alpha said. “There’s something I need to show you.”

“Is it related to the case?” he asked, and Chris paused a moment before answering in the affirmative. “Okay, I can be there in fifteen. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

“Sure, Mr. Argent.”

Stiles felt a little bit like a dick for adding the _Mr. Argent_ at the end, because he wasn’t as angry now that everyone was more open about their information, but he was also aware that the only reason Chris and Peter were putting their cards on the table was because of Duke and Isaac. They still hadn’t been willing to share information with Stiles, even after he’d made his stand. Chris had texted Stiles that the door was open and to come to his office. Stiles remembered what had happened the last time he’d been in there and tried really hard not to sweat. He just reminded himself of the look Peter and Chris had exchanged when he’d asked them to open up, and fresh anger brightened up his resolve. He just hoped Chris wasn’t wearing tight jeans.

“Come on in.” Stiles heard the man’s voice as he walked up the stairs and pushed open the door to the office. There was a map tacked up on the wall behind the man’s desk, and the hunter was looking at the west coast. “Anything new from Duke?” he asked, without turning around.

“Isaac’s resting today. How about with Derek?”

“Peter’s managed to locate Derek’s old Camaro. It was impounded years ago, and his attorney is working to get it released without paying more than it’s worth.”

“Hopefully Derek will want to drive it instead of sticking his head out the window.” When Chris gave him a sour look he shrugged. “What? He did it on the way to Scott’s house.” He jerked his chin at the map. “What’s this?”

“I’m making marks in the places where there’s been significant activity, I know Isaac may be able to tell us what he knows, but he also might’ve been with Allison the whole time.”

“I’m sorry to bring this up, but could Allison be involved?”

“I can’t imagine why,” he replied, but his brows were knit together. “I could see her being naïve and someone else lying to her. I don’t see her as someone who would take a Were’s sanity away.”

“You don’t want to tell her though, do you?” He looked at the map where there were several colored pushpins stuck in various spots.

“No. She trusts people too easily.” He frowned. “I’m putting the red ones in the places where I found the Hales and Isaac. I’m putting the blue ones in the places where I know there are facilities run by other hunting companies.” He handed Stiles a box of green push pins. “Can you put these in the spots where Deaton’s found other Weres, and the black ones where other people of interest might me?”

“What makes someone of interest?”

“Any connection to Weres or the shelter, or the Hales.” He shrugged. “At this point, I’m trying to see the bigger picture.”

“Well use another color and put tacks in the spots where your family members, and Argent facilities, and maybe even the employees are.”

“Yeah.” There was tension in Chris’s voice.

Stiles opened his address book and pulled up everyone he knew who was involved with Weres. He pushed in the appropriate pins, and when Deaton texted him a list of towns where other suspicious feral activity was, he added those too. When they were finished, they stepped back and looked at the map. There was some crossover to be expected, because hunters went where the Were packs were. The information was inconsistent enough to be discouraging.

“They might be manufacturing it on one area but sending it all over the country for testing.” Stiles ran a hand over his hair. “I just think we need to make a timeline too.”

“Timeline?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing research, looking for incidents that could be related. Animal attacks, pet Weres going crazy or disappearing, and other things like that.”

“Good idea.”

“How long between the night Peter was shot and when you and Laura... found him?”

“About a week,” Chris said.

“And then it was years before you found Derek?”

“Yes.” Stiles pointed to the red pins that were close to each other. “Yeah, they were both found within a few miles of their old house, I figured they’d gotten loose and made their way back here.”

“What if they never left?”

“I thought about that too, but I don’t know of anywhere in the area where Derek could’ve been kept for four years without anyone knowing.”

“Right.” Stiles stared at the scattering of colors on the map. “I’ve got all my research back at my apartment. I’ve asked my dad to check on a few of them for me. Sometimes newspapers don’t print follow-up stories, but law enforcement might.” He knew Chris was staring at him, but he kept his eyes on the board. “Mind if I take a photo?” he asked, taking out his phone.

“Go ahead,” Chris replied. Stiles took the photo and then stuck his phone back in his pocket. “Stiles, I know Peter talked to you about having some residual attachments to you when you stayed with him.”

“Goodnight.” Stiles stood up and walked away from Chris.

“Wait!” Chris rarely raised his voice; it was kind of his thing. The shock stopped Stiles in his tracks, and he felt immobilized.

“No,” he said, even though he obviously hadn’t moved. “We’ve had sex several times despite you being _certain_ that the timing is bad for your career. I’m absolutely not going to discuss anything personal with you in regard to my interactions with another man, especially since I’m not seeing either of you.” Chris shut the office door, closing him in and stood in front of him.

“I need you to hear me out,” Chris said, “and then you can go.”

“I’m not obligated to listen, and you’ve no right to ask me to.” He shook his head. “Don’t try to stop me from leaving Chris.”

“Stiles, you’re in heat.”

Stiles’s fingers brushed the doorknob and stayed there. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, and then a second one. He felt only a little bit warm, and not the blistering, sunburnt feeling of a real heat. But he was on suppressants, so…

“Shit.” Stiles opened his eyes. “I missed my last dose. Deaton was supposed to give it to me near Christmas, but his sister went into labor and…shit happened. I still shouldn’t be in heat.”

“It’s been years, right?” Chris asked.

“Yes, if you don’t count breakthrough symptoms.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” He lowered his voice until it was the soothing bass that Stiles found hypnotic. “Stress can have a significant effect on cycles.”

“I know,” Stiles snapped. “I’m stressed for months, and then suddenly there’s some relief from it-in the form of major revelations-and my hormones think it’s a great time to have a _baby_.” He fumbled for his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Chris asked.

“My doctor.” Chris waited while stiles told the medical assistant- _Hi, I’m Misty_ -his name and date of birth. Eventually they got to the point in the conversation where he could explain why he was calling. “There was a crisis at work, tons of stress, and I’m off my suppressants. I’m going into an unscheduled heat.”

“I’m just looking you up,” the woman replied. “Yes, I see that you were due around Christmas. I’ll have to have you come in for a pregnancy test before we can give you the suppressant/birth control combo, but-oh, hang on, the doctors right here. Give me just a sec, Stiles.”

Chris went to his desk and picked up his keys.

“I can take you home if you can’t drive.”

“How close is it?” Stiles didn’t even feel sweaty, but an Alpha Were’s nose would be more sensitive.

“It’s rising quickly, but if you’re upset, I…can’t easily let you leave.” He pressed his lips together, and Stiles knew that look. Alphas hated it when Omega pheromones messed with their instincts. Chris had been intimate with him, and was now compelled to care for him, just like the time he’d gone to the firing range.

“Hi there!” Misty’s voice was pleased. “I just spoke to Dr. Hedgepeth, she said she can call you in some contraceptives. You’ll just need to take them within twenty-four hours of intercourse, either before or after.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you verify which pharmacy you’re using?” Stiles told her. “Okay, I’m sending over the prescription now, you should be able to pick it up within the hour. Do you want them to call you?”

“Thanks, I’ll get an automated text when its ready. Is it a full three months’ worth?”

“The standard is fifteen pills, but if you need more, just call.”

Stiles thanked her and hung up. He pressed his forehead against Chris’s office door. Now that he knew it was coming, he could feel pressure in his lower belly. He’d practically forgotten what it was like to go through a full-on, unsuppressed heat. His fingers shook and he called Deaton.

“Stiles?” the vet answered.

“Hey, I’m going into heat. I forgot about my December dose.”

“Stiles, I’m so sorry. I had it on my calendar in my office. I think it was during the week I went away. I’m so sorry, I should’ve remembered it.”

“There was a lot happening, I should’ve remembered. But I’m going to be out for a few days.”

“Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“Nah, but I’m gonna call Scott and ask him to pick up some stuff from the pharmacy for me. I’ll ride it out and see you in a week or so.”

“When you’re feeling up to it, I have an herbal tea that can help disguise your scent until the next shot takes hold.”

“Thanks.” Stiles called Scott next.

“Hey, what’s up?” The Alpha sounded tired.

“In a bit of a bind. I missed my last suppressant and I’m in heat. I’m wondering if you can pick some stuff up for …” he trailed off as Chris put his hand over the phone and slowly took it away. The older man was breathing heavily.

“I’ve got it, Scott. He’ll be here with me. I’ll have him call you back in a few days.” Chris ended the call just as Scott had begun to stammer. “Text your father,” he growled. “Tell him you’re in heat, and you’ll call him in a few days.” He handed the phone back to Stiles. It took him a moment to pull up his text messages and he sent one to his dad, as instructed. He added a second one letting him know that he was all set on supplies, otherwise his father would try to drop something off for him and he’d need to explain why he wasn’t home. Even at twenty-six, John was still worried that someone would take advantage of him.

“I’ll need the pills,” he groaned as his lower belly cramped painfully.

“Give me your phone, I’ll take care of it.” The smooth, confident voice had Stiles handing over his phone and dashing down to Allison’s room. She had her own bathroom, and he wanted to be as far away from Chris’s bedroom as possible when his body prepared for his heat. He was thankful that he hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last few days-in retrospect he should’ve guessed it was pre-heat, so he wasn’t stuck on the toilet for too long. He used the shower to get himself thoroughly clean, pulled on his clothes and marched back down the hall. The light in the office was out, so he decided to check the bedroom. As he passed the office door, a long arm snaked out and hooked around his waist, pulling him in. Chris shut the door and pinned Stiles to it, pressing his face into the Omega’s neck.

“The pills?” Stiles asked as Argent pulled his head to the side and rubbed his open mouth against his throat.

“On the way,” he growled, and it was a real growl. Gooseflesh rose on his skin and he felt himself start to stiffen up in his shorts. “I was married for so long, since then I haven't been this close before," he said. "Not to an un-mated, human Omega in real heat.” His whole body was scorching hot, and Stiles could feel it through his clothes. Being partnered tended to render the scent of others in estrus less enticing, but his wife had died, and his most recent partner was with him now. Stiles pressed his own face into the Alpha’s neck and inhaled, feeling an aching throb in his ass, and the first trickle of slick came through. “You’ve kick-started my rut, Stiles.” He reached down and gripped the Omega’s ass, one cheek in each hand and pulled them apart. “I could be a grandfather by now, and a twenty-something kid is sending me into rut.” He sounded angry, or at least frustrated.

“I didn’t know,” Stiles began, and then he placed his hand on Argent’s chest and pushed him back. “You called me. You asked me to come here.” before he could protest, Stiles placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t pretend it was only for the map.” Red eyes flashed in the dark. “You could’ve asked Deaton for the information you got from me.”

“You wouldn’t talk to me.” He put his hand around Stiles’s throat, not threateningly, just possessively, and squeezed the back of his neck. “Peter wouldn’t let me call you.”

“Peter’s the boss of you?” he asked, lowering his own voice. “Is he your Alpha?”

“No.”

“What would you have said to me if you’d called?”

“Whatever it took to get you back,” he whispered. Stiles reached for the lamp beside the door and turned it on. Chris’s face was flushed, and his expression was a little wilder than usual. Omega heats started more slowly, so the Omegas theoretically had time to secure themselves a good mate. A rut triggered by a partner tended to be more sudden in its onset.

“What were you going to tell me?” he asked. “You started asking me about Peter. What were you going to say?” He pushed past Chris and went to the desk and leaned back against it. If Chris was going to try to partner him, the Omega was going to tease a little first.

“I could smell you,” the hunter said, stalking forward. “I wanted to know if you intended to continue seeing Peter.”

“Were you going to be a good bro, and step aside?”

“If you wanted to be with Peter, I’d have stopped pursuing you.”

“What if I wanted to be with you? Would he do the same?”

“Probably not. At least not until he was convinced that he didn’t have a chance.” The hunter placed his hands on the desk on either side of Stiles and caged him in. “You’re playing with me now,” he rumbled.

“What does your wolf want?” Stiles spread his legs a little wider. “What does it want to do right now? And what will you let it do?”

“My wolf is very anxious,” Chris replied, “it’s not convinced that I’ve secured you for the duration of your heat and my rut.” He leaned in and trailed his nose against the Omega’s throat. “In the shooting range, I thought your scent was intense, but it was nothing next to how good you smell now.” He bumped Stiles’s jaw upward with his nose and tucked his face under his chin. He inhaled with his mouth open, tasting the younger man’s scent.

“What would you do to secure me?”

“If you ran out the door, and into the woods behind the house, I’d know you wanted me to catch you. I’d give you a head start and then I’d hunt you down.” He pressed his lips to the hollow of Stiles’s throat. “I’d find you and hold you down on the ground or bent over a log. I’d knot that tight little ass of yours and fill you up, so you’d be dripping for days.”

“Hold that thought until at least April,” Stiles whispered. “It’s too cold to lie on the ground, tied to you and waiting for you to stop coming.” He felt Chris’s hands on his hips and the hunter tugged him forward, pressing his thigh between the Omega’s legs.

“Are you going to stay for your heat?” he asked. “I’ve locked up the house, I’ve forwarded my calls, and I’ve taken leave for an emergency in Cheyenne, Wyoming.” He smiled against Stiles’s neck when the younger ma chuckled. “Just in case the old man gets nosy.”

“Locked up in here?” Stiles asked. “Did you tell Lydia to pick up my prescription for me?”

“I asked Peter,” he replied. Stiles’s fingers tightened on the desk and he sucked in a breath. “Peter has the code, and he’s going to call here once he has your meds. At that point, you’re going to tell him what you want.”

“Does he know what he’s picking up?” Stiles asked, gripping the Hunter’s shoulders as the man pressed a thigh against his groin.

“Yes, I told him. And if you want to leave with him, he’ll take you someplace where you can be alone. I’ll let you go.”

“You’d let me walk away?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, but not without a fight.”

~

Stiles knew the sounds he was making went far beyond obscene, but the acoustics in Argent’s house weren’t helping with the drama.

“Someone called for a delivery?” Stiles turned his head, resting his cheek on Chris’s shoulder, but didn’t stop moaning. “Good God, Christopher. You want him to be able to talk, right?”

Chris had turned them around and was the one leaning back against the desk now. Stiles was straddling his thigh and the Alpha’s hand was down the back of his pants. He was two fingers deep inside his Boy, rocking him against his leg with each thrust of his fingers. His other arm was around Stiles’s back, pinning him tightly to his chest. “I thought you were going to make it fair.”

Stiles caught the scent of another, virile Alpha, one with whom he’d also recently been intimate. The combination of two Alpha Weres in the same place had his head spinning, and he slipped to the side, reaching for the edge of the desk to steady himself. Chris let him leave his leg, but Stiles whined when he tried to remove his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” he moaned and heard Chris give a low snarl. The brighter light from the hallway backlit Peter as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook beside the office door. Chris pinned Stiles to the desk with a hand on the back of his neck and added another finger. Despite the growls, Peter walked forward, slowly rolling up his sleeves.

“I never thought I’d see this day.” Peter gloated as he approached the desk. “Christopher Argent, the man, the myth, the _legend_! The man who prides him self on his iron control.” He pushed in Chris’s chair and kept circling the desk. “The wolf with balls of steel who surrounds himself with hunters. The man who denied his nature for so long, he forgot it was part of him.”

“I never forgot!” Chris’s voice was slurred like he was speaking through fangs.

“The man who resisted another tight young twink’s advances for months. The man who swore he liked women.”

“I’m not a twink, you fucker!” Stiles managed to say it when Chris paused in his thrusts to keep his eye on Peter who was coming back into Stiles’s line of sight. “Fucking Hell, don’t stop Chris!”

“And here you are,” Peter acted like neither of the other two had spoken, “Pinning down an Omega in your office, over your own desk, with three fingers deep in his ass.”

“Think you can take him from me?”

“I’m just wondering why you haven’t put at least one load inside of him yet.”

“Me too,” Stiles moaned, and Peter chuckled.

“I’ll tell you why, Sweet Boy. He’s afraid you don’t want him. He’s afraid he’ll knot you, and start forming a heat bond with you, and then I’ll show up and he’ll have to go through the agony of rejection while in rut.” He tutted at them both. “But he’s too honorable to lock me out and keep you to himself.”

“Shut up, Peter!” Chris’s voice was a deep, guttural snarl, not completely human.

“There it is, Stiles. I know Argent’s not exactly a _gentle_ lover, but you’ve never really seen the animal, have you?” He cast an admiring eye over them. “Hunched over you, ready to fight or fuck. And you’re so hungry to be filled, I can smell how wet you are from here.” He purred and Stiles felt himself clench around Argent’s fingers. “ _I could eat you both up_.” His voice was somewhere between the man and the wolf. There was a vibration Stiles could feel in his bones that made his spine arch, taught like a bow string.

“Can’t you two stop fighting,” he panted, “long enough to…take turns?” he was gasping like a fish out of water.

Peter smiled widely.

“Hush now, Baby,” he said, “your Daddies are talking.”

“Fuck!” Stiles came so hard he felt it in his toes. When the spasms stopped, he saw Peter’s smug smile. Chris slowly released his grip on the Omega’s neck and withdrew his fingers from his slick hole. All three men were still fully clothed-he hadn’t even unzipped his pants-but Peter was looking at Chris like he’d stripped the other Alpha bare. He approached the hunter and reached for the hand he’d just had in Stiles’s pants, lifted it to his lips and sucked on Chris’s middle finger.

“That’s worth waiting for,” Peter said. Then he turned to Stiles, who stood up on wobbly legs. “I told you before that my dick seems to respond only to you. I asked Chris to try, but he refused.”

“I didn’t want to get dumped by either of you if you decided you liked each other,” Chris added.

“He seemed to feel like me getting stuck in madness for six years, and forming a cock-bond with you, meant I got to have first crack at you. But you went to stay with your father like a gentleman and left me to take cold showers and jerk off with your laundry.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about that, I did wash them.”

“How gallant,” Stiles said, with a tone as dry as his throat. “I’m thirsty.” He pushed past both men and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Peter had apparently picked up more than just Stiles’s prescription. There was a shrink-wrapped case of bottled water, a bag of mandarin oranges and another of macadamia nuts, a massive bar of chocolate, and a jar of pickles. “You realize I’m not actually pregnant, right?” He eyed the pickles and chocolate.

“The pickles are for Argent,” Peter said. “He craves salt when he’s in rut.”

“Oh?” Stiles eyed the two of them.

“He’d resisted the _other_ tight twink until he came home for Thanksgiving break and went into rut with no one around but me.” Peter batted his eyes at Chris, who had his thumbs tucked in his pockets, hands loosely framing the bulge in the front of his tight jeans. “A sweet November it was, too.”

“He said you were lovers once.”

“It was more than once,” Peter said with a snort. “I thought _I_ was an animal, but our hunter sent me home limping.”

“You asked for it,” Chris said, gaze steady on Peter’s. “Begged, if I remember correctly.” He watched as Stiles opened the water case and took out a bottle. He stuck six of them in the refrigerator and twisted the cap off a seventh. He took a swig and then opened the bag from the pharmacist. He glanced at the directions and then swallowed a pill with another sip of water.

“You do remember correctly,” Peter purred. “I was a few years younger, but I was fascinated with him. I teased him every moment my parents’ backs were turned. I followed him around, and when I got older I swam naked when he tried to go fishing, crawled in bed with him-also naked-and then on a camping trip I spent the entire time on my knees with my mouth open.”

Stiles choked on his water and coughed, recovered and then laughed.

“No one would do anything about it,” Chris said. “They just laughed and told me to throw him off the roof if he got too irritating.”

“I don’t know why,” Peter muttered, “it never worked for any of them.”

“So, what are you now?” Stiles was feeling a little restless, but he still wanted answers.

“It’s complicated,” Chris said.

“I was going to say friends,” Peter added, “but yes, I suppose it’s complicated now.” He looked at Stiles. “It’s not your fault, but it’s about you.”

“I could say ‘screw you both’ and then you can be together.” Stiles was serious. “I care for you both, but no matter how long we’ve been around each other, I can’t say I really _knew_ either of you.” He rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. “Not until recently.”

“It’s not fair to put you on the spot like this,” Chris said.

“No, it isn’t.” Stiles pinned Chris with a stare. “I’m in heat, you’re in rut, and Peter is currently imprinted on me, or something.” He caught himself staring at Peter’s forearms, and Chris’s hands. He was starting to get hard again and with the rapidly drying come in his underwear, he was going to be uncomfortable very soon. “We need a temporary truce, okay?” He drained the water bottle. “I’m tabling discussions of a long-term arrangement until after my heat. Right now, you and I both need a partner,” he said, pointing to Chris and himself before turning to look at Peter, “you and Chris know and trust each other, so why don’t we take the opportunity to try and fix your dick.”

“Are you suggesting we stay here together?” Peter asked.

“Yes, in fact, at the moment, I’m demanding it.” He tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin. “I haven’t been through a heat without some kind of chemical assistance in years, it’s probably going to be rough, and Werewolf or not, I might be a little too needy for one man.”

Stiles left the kitchen and went back upstairs. “If you don’t want to do this in your room, tell me now.” Peter caught up with him at the threshold.

“Hard limits?”

“Don’t punch me or slap anything but my ass, blood is not a turn on, neither is using me as a toilet. Say the word slut and it’s over. Dominate, don’t demean; otherwise, fuck me however you want.”


	24. With a thunder!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heat sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this took far longer than it should have. I kept dialing it back, and not wanting to do too much too soon.

“You really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t want to hurt you. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hurting me means you stop, so figure out what you want more, and I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Peter’s going to go into rut soon,” Chris said, looking flushed and twitchy, and for a second, Stiles wasn’t sure who Chris wanted more. “I can tell.”

“He’s right,” Peter said, and smiled at Chris. “Are we going to break your house?”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, it’s my turn,” Peter said and pounced on Stiles.

Stiles regretted giving Peter carte blanche. He was soaked in sweat and lying face down on Chris’s sheets, sprawled out with Peter’s face buried in his ass. No matter how much he moaned, squirmed or begged, the Alpha Were just kept eating him out.

“Peter,” Chris was standing at the door, “stop Bogarting his ass.”

“Chris,” Stiles whined, imploring the hunter, “I need a dick, any dick, just please stick one in me. I don’t care whose.” His hair was plastered to his face and he was desperate for release.

“I've never been with an Omega in heat,” Peter said. “I wanted to taste you like this before your ass gets sloppy with Argent’s come.”

They decided that Peter could get his wolf going by teasing Stiles, but that Chris would come inside him first to try and get Peter’s wolf to associate more than one person with sex when it was his turn.

“I need you Chris!” He wasn’t above using the Alpha’s rut instinct. He was going mad with the need to be filled. “He’s been at it for hours!”

“It’s been less than thirty minutes,” Chris said, crawling onto the bed. The hunter was looking flushed and sweaty too. He was naked and his massive erection bobbed as he made his way over. “Give him another five minutes, and then I’ll pound you through the mattress.” He looked at Peter. “Five minutes, _and_ you use a finger.”

Stiles groaned and reached out to touch the cock. It was so close. His hand got swatted away as the warm tongue started poking at him again. It felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. When one of Peter’s thick fingers pushed inside, he shivered. The five minutes seemed like ten, but eventually Peter relinquished possession of Stiles’s ass and Chris took over. The hunter surprised him by pushing his legs together and crawling up over him to straddle his thighs. His hands moved up on either side of Stiles’s head and he nuzzled the sweaty hair affectionately. When he spoke, he was using his sex voice. “You’re so sexy like this, I’d keep you like this forever if I could.” He rubbed his erection against the cleft of Stiles’s ass. “I’m going to do it like this, holding your legs closed so you’re even tighter than usual.”

“Yes.” Stiles was pushing upwards, but it only earned him a sharp smack on the ass.

“I’m gonna come inside you, and then Peter’s going to slide into the mess I leave behind. He’s gonna go wild trying to cover my scent.” The man added lube because they had a long session ahead of them and didn’t want to risk abrasions early on.

Chris rose up to his knees and pulled Stiles’s cheeks apart. He sucked in a breath as his thumbs stroked down around the slick, tongue-reddened hole. He pressed the head of his cock against it and pushed. Stiles tied to widen his legs again, wanting to make space for the beefy organ, but Chris locked his knees around his thighs. “Just like this,” he purred. Stiles grunted when the head popped through the first ring of muscle and then swore loudly. Chris moved over him again and put one hand beside his head, and the other between his shoulder blades. The Omega waited for the commands he loved hearing in that rugged voice. “Bear down, I’m giving you another inch. You can take it.” Stiles bore down and felt his slick cavern being pushed apart.

“He gives you an inch and it feels like a mile, doesn’t it?” Peter stroked his hair, but Stiles couldn’t answer. All he could do was take it when Chris kept pushing as he talked to him, telling him how well he was doing. Peter seemed excited rather than jealous as he watched Chris bottom out. Stiles thought it would never happen. “Is it too much?”

“So big,” he moaned. “’S really intense.” He drew in a breath as Chris slid back and then in again, making several slow careful strokes, like he was petting Stiles’s insides. “So good.” He closed his eyes, letting his heat wash over him, now that he was getting what he needed.

“Look at you, taking care of our Omega,” Peter said, softly.

Chris tightened his grip on Stiles’s shoulder and started fucking in earnest. He built up speed and intensity and soon the Omega was being pounded like a drum, his walls being spread open with each ramming thrust. He let the sensations overwhelm him and let go. _This!_ It was perfect, he was being tightly held, fucked hard, and surrounded with his Alphas. There were hands all over him, stroking, petting, squeezing, and then Chris was coming in hot spurts, filling him up. He pulled out and Stiles felt cold for a moment when the warmth of both bodies vanished and he was temporarily cold and clammy with sweat. Then he was covered by a wall of heat as Peter crouched over him.

“Yes,” Stiles sighed and reached behind him to stroke Peter’s face.

“My turn, little Omega.” His hard cock pushed inside the sticky mix of come, lube and Stiles’s own fluids and he started to thrust. He braced his hands on the Omega’s shoulders as he started hammering away, frenzied in his movements. “So perfect, my sweet boy, you’re so good.” His cock was filling Stiles over and over and then he was pawing at the Omega’s legs, pushing them apart and moving between them. He barely missed a beat, gripping Stiles’s hips and pulling him up to meet his thrusts, and eventually pulling him up to his knees with his head low, so he could hit his prostate. Stiles came hard, spurting on the sheets and tightening up around the Alpha who came a moment later.

Chris re-joined them on the bed, and they sandwiched Stiles, taking turns kissing and petting him. He lightly dozed, enjoying the endorphins from his orgasm and the feeling of contentment. 

Stiles woke, aroused and trembling, and saw Chris between his legs, sucking his cock slowly and gently. He fumbled for Peter who was beside him and pawed at his groin until he freed his dick from his shorts. Peter groaned, still drowsy from his own nap, and hugged Stiles’s upper body, supporting his chest as he twisted sideways while Chris had his hips pinned flat. He took Peter into his mouth and sucked while massaging his ass with his long fingers.

Chris’s hands became more insistent and he released Stiles’s cock with a pop. He was sweaty and agitated, in a wave of his own rut, and Stiles obediently rolled over, continuing to bob his head over Peter as Chris fingered him open.

“Is it okay?” Chris whispered, impatient to be inside his Omega.

“Yeah, do it.” He released Peter and moved to his hands and knees as Chris eased his way inside. Stiles was wet enough, and still relaxed from his previous round, so he slid in smoothly. He rocked back against Chris who dug his fingers into his hips and started thrusting with firm steady movements. With a flare of heat in his belly, Stiles reached for Peter who grasped the back of his head and pushed into his mouth.

~Peter’s POV

“I think we’ve always wanted to do this,” Peter said wistfully.

“You’d better not be talking about an Eiffel tower,” Stiles said, pulling off his cock.

“No, sweet boy, I meant finding someone who could be a buffer,” he hooked his thumb in the Omega’s mouth, tugged it open, and pushed back inside, “not just a fluffer.” Stiles let out a snort of amusement but continued to suck. “What do you think, Christopher?” He rolled his hips gently, letting the hunter push their boy onto his dick. “When we’re all coherent again, I’d like to see if Stiles can tolerate both of us on a regular basis.” The hunter didn’t answer, but no one had expected him to. At the moment, he was focused on watching his dick disappear into Stiles’s ass. He couldn’t blame the man, Stiles’s ass was quite fine, as was his mouth.

“Gonna knot you,” Chris said, breathing heavily, almost unaware of Peter’s presence. He pushed his knot in and Stiles sighed as it caught and swelled. Chris grunted and started to come, so he rolled the Omega onto his side and spooned him. Stiles gave the other Alpha an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry.”

“No problem, I can wait.” He glanced down at the younger man. “What about you? Want me to do something while you’re stuck?”

“I’ll wait too,” he replied.

“Do you like topping during heats?” Peter asked.

“No one’s ever asked me that,” he said, “I’m usually versatile, but during heats I prefer bottoming.”

“No one’s asked?”

“If I’m having breakthrough heat symptoms, it’s hard to hide what I am. Guys tend to like the uniqueness of my body.” He shrugged. “I don’t get offended, if I went to New Orleans, I’d want to Bourbon Street just to see what all the fuss is about.” 

Peter pulled the sheet over them, and continued to chat with Stiles about idle things while he was tied. In the haze of rut, Chris was absent from their discussion, leaving Peter and Stiles a strange pocket of privacy which felt intimate to him. Chris giving over to the wolf meant he didn't find Peter a threat to his claim, which might've been an insult if he didn't know the hunter so well, and it struck him how unique their situation was. His wolf wanted Stiles and had wanted to claim him but now, as his boy lay beside him, with another wolf’s knot buried in his ass, he was content to learn more about the person he was. Chris had always been a very dominant partner as well as a possessive one, but he hadn’t so much as growled during the last knotting and had dropped into a sleepy trance. He’d been barely coherent, but he’d made no effort to keep Stiles to himself.

Peter rubbed his palm over Stiles’s neck and chest, and drifted off, contented to smell their scents co-mingled. When he woke, his cock was enveloped in a tight, wet heat; startled, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked down at a pair of big, brown eyes looking up at him. Stiles was the hazy one now, and Peter was two for two with partners who trusted him enough to drop into this headspace.

“Hey, Beautiful.” Peter cupped the elfin face and drew Stiles up to kiss him. The needy boy tried to rub off on him on the way up. “None of that now," he chided, “I’ll have something nice for you, do you want it?” He heard the whimper and impatient movements as Stiles’s heat was hitting full stride. He still didn’t want to knot him, too afraid of hurting him again, but his Boy would need to feel full. He reached over to where the hunter was sleeping and gave his ear a sharp flick as Stiles rolled Peter onto his back and climbed onto his hips. He moaned as he sunk down on the Alpha’s length.

Stiles wasn’t too stretched out, but under normal circumstances, he’d have tightened up more since his last round. It would make it more difficult for Peter to satisfy him without knotting, so when his Boy started bouncing on his dick, head thrown back in bliss, he told a now-alert Chris the plan.

~

Stiles felt like he was in a haze of sensations. The burning ache in his gut was uncomfortable, but the cock inside him was long and thick, and was working to ease it. He heard murmured voices, two of them, but continued to just keep riding. He felt hands on his hips, encouraging him, and then warmth at his back. He heard the deep, smooth voice of the hunter and leaned back, letting his head fall on the older man’s shoulder.

“That’s it, just keep nice and relaxed, Baby.” Limber fingers brushed his ass where he was currently being pierced, and he whined when two of them slid in beside the cock on his downstroke. “Yeah, I think he can,” the hunter said, and another voice answered him.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready.” It was his Alpha, the one he was riding. He wondered what they were talking about in his hazy mind. He felt a strong hand grip the back of his neck, and shivered. Stiles’s inner-Omega loved it when Chris did that. He felt himself pushed down against a warm, muscular chest and a pair of arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly. He wiggled, wanting to push back down on the cock inside him.

‘Patience, Stiles.” The tone of Chris’s voice always got him to cooperate. “We’ve got you. Let Peter and me help get you nice and full.”

Stiles was still impatient, but The Alpha under him, the one inside him, wouldn’t let him sit up. He was frustrated, and wanted to tell them off, but he could only manage to make a soft whine. Fingers were pushing in beside the cock, but he didn’t want them, he wanted the knot. He must’ve mumbled something out loud because the chest under his ear rumbled with amusement.

“We know what you want, Sweet Boy, but you can’t take my knot yet.”

“Can, too.” he argued. “Want it.”

“Just wait, Darling. You’ll like what Chris has for you. Just bear down.”

Stiles felt the head of another cock push at him where the fingers had just been stretching him. He keened as the organ, slick with lube, pushed inside him along side the other one. It felt like being entered by a baseball bat. It burned, but it felt so good at the same time.

“Yes,” he whispered. “More.”

“I’m close,” The first Alpha said. “He was blowing me when I woke up, and I didn’t get off during your round an hour ago.”

“I’ll hold still, you go, and then I will.”

The arms that pinned Stiles down tightened up, and he felt the hips rise beneath him and then his ass was getting hammered by one set of hips, with one cock sliding in and out while another lodged inside him, stretching him. The feeling was overwhelming but satisfying at the same time, and he felt himself getting close. The ache in his belly eased as the Alpha underneath him tightened his grip and came inside him. Just as he finished, the other Alpha, the one with the hand pinning him by his neck, gave some quick, hard thrusts before his knot swelled up. The first Alpha pulled out then, and the knot lodged inside. He kept pushing, short little thrusts that pulled at his rim and shoved at his prostate until he came. Blissful coolness followed, a relief from the burning ache inside him. He drifted off into a deeper doze, feeling like this round had been satisfied.

When Stiles woke, tired and hungry but with a fairly clear mind, he heard an odd noise. The moaning and sucking sound wasn’t unfamiliar but hearing it without someone touching him was. He rolled over, feeling a slight ache in his ass when he did, and looked at the other side of the bed. He saw Peter splayed out on his back with one foot flat on the mattress and his knee up in the air. Chris was holding his thigh and Stiles couldn’t see him clearly, because of the leg blocking his view, but he could see enough. The hunter’s head bobbed up and down, and he had a hand flat on the other Alpha’s chest, keeping him still while he worked his dick, relentlessly.

Peter had an arm thrown over his eyes and let out a harsh noise when he came. He panted and reached down to grip the back of Chris’s neck.

“I knew you could do it,” Stiles said, rolling off the bed and pulling on a pair of shorts. I’m grabbing some food before the next round. Want something?”

“Sure,” Chris said. “Thanks.”

Chugging a cold bottle of water so quickly his teeth hurt, Stiles pawed around in the cupboard and then put together a plate of pickles, macadamia nuts, some cheese and crackers, apple slices, and the chocolate bar broken up into pieces. He carried more water under his arm and was pleased to see Peter and Chris both still in bed. Chris turned on a lamp and they sat on the bed, sharing the food. They made the decision to change the sheets and air out the room a little while all three of them had some clarity and chatted while stiles watched and ate.

“Are you going to be okay when you go back to work?” Chris asked.

“What do you mean?” Stiles wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You and Scott.”

“Oh.” Stiles chewed a handful of macadamia nuts, and incidentally took in about three hundred calories per glorious mouthful. “What about you?” he asked. “Scott might remain in denial long enough to come up with a plausible story that won’t result in an angry call from Allison and eventually your father and sister.”

“There’s only so much control I should use over him,” Peter said, popping a slice of apple in his mouth.

“I might have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be several pairings.


	25. Invasion of the adorable heterosexuals and their relationships.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an Allison-hater, I just like a different spin on Kira being the 'New Girl' and I thought she and Scott were adorably sweet.
> 
> I love Jordan/Lydia, although I was fine with the show leaving it at flirtation while she was in high school.

Scott was getting dressed when Kira knocked on his door.

“Hey,” he said, smiling when he saw her. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Sorry, was I noisy?” She sat on the edge of his bed while he pulled on a hoodie. “I must’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You’re away from your pack,” Scott said, running a hand over her dark hair. He caught himself and pulled back.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kira said.

“You’re not a pet, I shouldn’t treat you like one.”

“We’re physically affectionate with each other like that in a pack. I didn’t think you were making a master/pet gesture, but one that a pack member makes to another.”

“That’s cool,” Scott brightened. They both looked at the window in his bedroom. “My dad’s here.” His eyes were wide. “Mom said he wasn’t coming by till tonight.”

“Is Jones with him?”

“Yeah, um. I can try to get rid of him.” He pushed past Kira and went downstairs.

“It’s okay Scott. I don’t think he’ll remember me.” She held her hands out to the side. It was true, she was dressed in skinny jeans, sneakers, and a bright yellow tunic shirt with an anime character on it. Her hair was brushed and curled, and she was wearing a little bit of makeup. “And besides,” she gave him a smile, “you’re a terrible liar, Scott. I’m just your friend, Kira Yukimura.”

“That’s Japanese?” He asked as they walked down the stairs together.

“I'm Half-Japanese, half-Korean.”

“Half-Irish, Half-Mexican,” he said, with a crooked smile. “We’d have like, the awesomest-looking kids!” He added, enthusiastically.

“I wouldn’t mind the grand-kids,” Rafe McCall said, walking in the front door, “eventually.”

“That’ll be good to know once I’ve started paying off vet school.” Scott agreed with Kira that he was a terrible liar so he kept the smile on his face after giving his dad a hug and held out his hand for Jones. “Good to see you again, Agent Jones.”

“You too, Scott.” The man smiled stiffly, “and please, call me Craig.” They both turned to look at Kira.

“This is a friend of mine,” Scott said. “Kira Yukimura.”

“Agent McCall. Agent Jones,” she shook hands formally with each of them. “You’ll be happy, and probably indifferent respectively, to know I’m not giving you grandkids.” McCall laughed, but Jones just smiled indifferently. 

“Well, not anytime _soon,_ ” Scott added with an elbow nudge and an exaggerated wink. When she gave him a dangerous look, he held his hands up, defensively. “Just kidding, we’re just friends.”

“What brings you to Beacon Hills, Miss Yukimura?”

“It’s Kira,” she corrected, “unless I’m being interrogated?” she looked back and forth between McCall and Jones. She looked confused.

“No, we’re just used to asking questions.” McCall was friendlier, but Jones seemed comfortable with her discomfort.

“Mom said you weren’t coming till tonight,” Scott said, changing the subject. “Is everything okay?” He tilted his head and stopped smiling. “Did you find out anything?”

“About what?” Craig asked, quickly.

“Uh…you came here to investigate the break-in, right?” Scott backed up a step. “Dad? Is something going on?” He jumped to the offensive, quickly. “I need to know if I’m safe if I’m working there.”

“Nothing’s changed,” McCall gave Jones a disappointed look. The kind only parents know how to give. “Craig’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah, sorry.” The younger agent didn't seem sorry, or like he'd been messing with Scott.

“Forget it.” Scott brushed it off.

“I was heading over to the shelter. I saw your bike, so I thought I’d ask if you wanted anything specific for dinner.”

“This whole thing has me jumpy,” Scott said, leaning back against the kitchen table. “I need a vacation. Once you find out who hired those guys, I’ll feel much better.” He went to the fridge and opened it. “Want a water or soda?” Both agents declined. “Uh, we’ve had pizza a few times this week, so if you wanted to pick up Chinese, or Thai, or Mexican, or even Cuban, I’d be a pretty happy guy.” He looked at Jones. “You coming too, Craig?”

“Thanks, but I can’t tonight,” Jones seemed to unbend a little after the invitation, and he even gave a genuine smile. “If we’re ever in the area and your mom’s feeling generous on empanada night… you let me know.” Scott smiled and Rafe laughed. All three men seemed more relaxed after that. A cell phone buzzed and Kira jumped, slightly.

“That’s me, I’ll be right back.” She went out onto the porch and left the men alone. She didn’t have any of her old stuff now, just a burner phone and some clothes from an emergency shopping trip courtesy of Peter Hale. “Hi,” she said, smiling as she heard her dad’s voice.

“Hi, Kira.. It's Kira now, right? I'm sorry I missed your call yesterday. It's good to hear your voice.” His voice sounded like he was trying to sound less emotional than he was feeling.

“Hey,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Can I call you back? My friend Scott’s dad is here.” Her parents knew that she was staying with the son of an FBI agent.

“Right. No problem. Call me when you can.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“You too.”

Kira had mailed her more precious belongings to her parents and told them to go into hiding for a while. She'd also asked them to write a letter backing up her story with the University. Her mother hadn’t been happy, but she understood why it was safer to not draw attention by looking for her. Wild Weres had been discovered on nearly every continent, and there had been plenty of packs of East Asian Weres who’d been brought over to work on the railroads with their human countrymen, so her appearance wasn’t terribly strange in a California pack. She still felt nervous being around men who were trained to notice small details. She just hoped she hadn’t been particularly clean when they’d walked through.

“Will I see you again tonight?” Rafe asked. “I’d be happy to feed the mother of my future grandchildren.” He dodged a shoulder smack from Scott.

“Thanks, I’ll do my best to make it.” She shook hands with both agents again and watched them leave.

“Did you get anything from them?” Scott asked. “I have better senses, but I don’t know what to do with them, yet.”

“I don’t really have better senses.” Scott gave her a funny look. “I’m not technically a Were.” She bit her lip. “I don’t have a shift like Werewolves do.”

“I didn’t know there were others,” Scott looked confused.

“Not many people do.” She went back upstairs to the guest room and started taking the tags off the clothes Peter had bought. She didn’t want to appear too much like a refugee, and although a shopping trip was a decent excuse for why she was here, having no clothes except brand-new ones might be the kind of detail that stuck in an FBI agent’s head.

“Is it polite to ask?” Scott stood in the doorway.

“I’m a _Kitsune_ ,” she said. “A Japanese fox demon.” She scratched her neck. “‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.”

“Hamlet,” Scott said with a smile. “My world is broadening quickly.”

“Wait till your first full moon.”

“I’m scared, but kind of excited too.” He walked into the room. “You…smell like a human, I guess.” He looked sheepish. “Do you mind?” he inclined his head.

“No, you can sniff me.”

Scott moved a little closer and bent down to hover over her shoulder. He breathed in and closed his eyes, then he moved up to her nape and did it again.

“You smell human, but when you get nervous, there’s a hint of …ozone.” He stepped back, pleased with himself. “Is that…right?”

“I’m a thunder Kitsune,” she replied. “I’m not that good at control, and obviously out of practice, but I’ve…been known to call down lightning.”

“Like Thor?” Scott’s eyes widened. “Stiles is gonna go crazy!”

“I don’t mind if you tell Stiles, but since you’re joining this world, you should know some of the rules, guidelines and general etiquette.” She bit her lip again. “Ruts and heats are like Vegas. What happens during it, stays between you and your partner. It's tacky, like talking about someone throwing up or having diarrhea. It's personal and out of your control.”

“I never thought about etiquette.”

“You also never ‘out’ another supernatural creature. It’s probably one of the things that hampered any cooperation between the people around here who knew.”

“Peter said something about it.”

“Yeah, we have our taboos. That’s a big one.”

“I won’t tell Stiles you can call down lightning. Or that you’re a Kitsune if you don’t want him to know.” He looked sheepish. “I just got excited for a minute there.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Do you know how I can get access to a car? I need to get some personal stuff out of storage.”

“Where? I might be able to take you.”

“It’s about an hour’s drive. Will that be too long?”

“Nah, we can take the bike unless you need trunk space, otherwise we'll have to borrow my mom's car.”

~

Lydia greeted Jordan when he knocked on her door. He had a tool belt in one hand and a pair of gloves in the other.

“Good morning.”

“You too,” he replied. “Are you sure you want to do this today?” He nodded towards the shed. “I know it’s been a busy week, and if you needed a day to rest and process everything, it’s okay. Or I can just do it for you.”

“I appreciate it, but my processing speed is pretty good, and I’ll be less anxious if I’m busy.” She gestured for him to come inside. “Did you have breakfast?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yes. Help yourself to coffee, I’ll get dressed and be right out.”

“Is anyone else hanging out here?” Jordan glanced around.

“Nope,” Lydia called out from down the hall. “I sent the twins and Jackson back to the apartment building. I didn’t want them here again.”

“I’m sorry, I know he was your friend.”

“He wasn't. Not for a long time, I just didn't realize it. He has a right to resent me for being born into human privilege. I did my best to try to help him blend in and get his own life, but I’m not applying for woman of the year, I’m not an activist.”

“Me neither. It seemed easier to work more quietly around the system if I wasn’t drawing attention to my political stance.”

Lydia emerged in jeans and a hoodie. She had a bandana tied around her hair to keep it off her face and gave Jordan a quick smile.

“Thanks for staying the other night,” she said. “After the hospital, and then again after…all the rest of it.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Life has been a little surreal, but I’m really lucky you’re a part of this.”

“It was no trouble, but you’re welcome.” He smiled. He had a really nice smile. “Now, where’s this You Tube DIY?”

Jordan and Lydia spent about twenty minutes watching a video Lydia had seen about making a headboard. The night they’d discovered Duke’s ruse, he had stayed with her and since she hadn’t been able to sleep, he’d built the platform for her new mattress right in her bedroom. “The paint looks good,” he said, looking into the master bedroom where the platform now sat empty. “What time is the mattress getting here?”

“After three.”

“Sounds good.”

They worked together in the shed, measuring, sawing, sanding and building the headboard which was fairly simple in design. It just took care and precision to get the nicest-looking pieces of lumber placed perfectly, and then sanded smooth and screwed and glued into place.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Lydia said, sweeping up the floor in the shed. She helped Jordan load up the rented equipment into his truck and then they both went back inside. “I prepped lunch, if you think you’ve worked up an appetite.” She unzipped her hoodie and tossed it over the end of the couch.

“That would be most welcome.”

“If you want to wash up, you can use my shower.”

“If I take too long, come get me when the food’s done.” He carried clean clothes in his gym bag, something she’d noticed before, and thought it was smart, or presumptuous. He saw her looking at the bag and grinned. “It might surprise you, but WCOs and deputies frequently get their uniforms dirty.” He jiggled the bag. “I had to drive around stinking of Were-wizz for a few hours once. I made it a habit to keep extra clothes.”

“That’s a pretty good idea,” the redhead said. “I keep extras at work for pretty much the same reason. Although urine is the least of my worries.” Jordan laughed.

“Maybe that’s why I like you,” he said.

“The eau du Alpha jizz?” she asked, innocently.

“Of course,” he replied. “Well, maybe your unique perspective on the kinds of hazards we encounter helps a bit as well.” He looked down at Lydia who stood in the doorway to the bedroom. “Or, maybe I just like redheads.”

“All of us?”

“I like this one.” He didn’t make a move towards her but didn’t turn away. He did blush, but it looked good with his dimples.

“I should show you how the shower works,” she said and led the way to the bathroom. “I had it re-done recently.” She opened the door and beamed with pride at Jordan’s expression. “I love a nice bathroom.” The shower was glassed in and a deep porcelain tub sat at the opposite end. “There were two smaller bedrooms, two closets and the bathroom was between them. I turned them into the master suite.”

“You did a great job.” He set his clothes down on a small bench where there was a basket of neatly-rolled towels. “I’m afraid to get your shower dirty.”

“Here,” she opened the glass door and walked over to the dual shower heads. “This turns on the water, and this controls the heat,” she said pointing out the different knobs. She turned one of them and water sprayed her hair and shirt. “Pressure’s pretty good, too.”

Jordan had shed his boots at the door, so he stood, staring open-mouthed as he stepped on his own toes, and pulled his feet out of his socks. He pulled his shirt over his head and nodded.

“Pressure looks pretty good.” Lydia’s white t-shirt had become transparent, and the bra she wore beneath it was light-colored and mostly sheer as well. She unbuttoned, unzipped and dropped her pants to her ankles, leaving her just in her undergarments and a wet t-shirt. She kicked her pants through the air and Jordan caught them without taking his eyes off her.

“Put those in the hamper for me?”

“Uh-huh.” Jordan tossed the wet jeans in the direction of the hamper and unbuckled his own belt. He caught the bandana from her hair next and tossed it towards the jeans. He pushed off his own, leaving his underwear on. He stepped into the shower and closed the door behind him. She was in his arms a moment later and he kissed the full, pouty mouth. He only stopped kissing her when he brought her shirt up over her head and resumed immediately afterwards. The shirt and both of their undergarments ended up in a wet pile on the other side of the shower as they kissed, and touched each other, slowly. They did wash-because sawdust- and it felt like a natural way to get to know each other’s bodies. He massaged shower gel into her shoulders, down her arms, over her back, and across her breasts and belly.

Lydia’s hair took a little longer than Jordan’s to clean. She knew he enjoyed the view when she vigorously scrubbed her scalp with conditioner-because you don’t skip that step-but he waited until all hair treatments were rinsed from eyes before diving back under the water for another kiss. Lydia slipped to the side and moved behind him, squirting soap into her hands and lathering up his back. He closed his eyes as she slid her small hands up and over his shoulders, trailing her fingers lightly over the muscles, and down over his arms. He stood still and let her press up against his back and run her hands smoothly over his chest and down his abdomen. He closed his eyes when she let her fingers travel down until they parted with two on either side of the base of his thick penis.

“Can I?” she asked, pressing her lips to his spine.

“Yes,” he groaned and looked down at her slender fingers as they wrapped around his erection and squeezed gently. She explored him with her fingertips down the swollen length. He tapered at the end and was thicker in the middle, but she seemed to like it. He dropped his head back and pressed his hands against the wall, steadying himself. He felt her move around his side, brushing the underside of his arm with her wet hair and bumping his chin when he dropped his chin down. He kept his eyes closed as she jerked him with a firm, steady hand while exploring the planes of her chest with the other. Then he felt it, she soft pressure of her lips in the center of his chest, and then down to where his abs were currently clenched. She ran her tongue down the valley between the ridges of muscle and he felt one of her breasts brush the tip of his cock. He groaned again and curled his toes.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” he gasped, “but uh…I don’t think this will take very long.” He was embarrassed, but also excited. “I’ll warn you.”

“No need,” Lydia said, and engulfed the head of his cock in her sweet, velvet mouth.

Jordan had to lean more heavily on the wall for support. He kept his eyes closed at first because he didn’t want things to end. Lydia’s mouth felt heavenly as she slid the wet heat down his shaft and back off. She sucked gently at first, but then focused on the head while she used her hand on the base. He looked down and saw her head bobbing onto him over and over and felt his belly tighten up and panted as he neared completion. She took her hand off his cock and gripped his hips, pulling herself onto him and drawing him deep into her mouth and throat. His climax felt deeper and harder than any he remembered in years.

“Time for lunch,” Lydia said, and Jordan had to blink a few times to get his brain back online. He shut off the water and followed her out of the shower, picking up her clothes and putting them in the hamper correctly, before picking up his own. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she said and wrapped a towel around herself before going to her bedroom.

Jordan regained the power to speak eventually. They ate lunch together and talked openly about the Werewolves and what to do about them. Lydia talked about growing up with Jackson, when she’d started teaching him to talk and read, how she’d realized she needed to hide it from her parents, and when she realized he could have a normal life if he passed as human. Jordan listened, fascinated by the way her mind worked. He’d met plenty of people who were intelligent, or focused, but so many people were held back by their assumptions and the explanations they accepted without question. He believed that Lydia was unique in her ability to throw away what she new to be true and start from the barest facts. Her acceptance that she could be wrong about simple things made her mind capable of pulling in so much more information.

“What made you interested in Weres?”

“Overseas, we used them in combat areas. They’re specially trained to help the medics evacuate wounded soldiers and civilians. They can carry more people than a human, get through tighter spots than a vehicle, and think independently.”

“You wondered why they could understand how to take orders but not give them?”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “And the ones we have are trained to whistle or make some kind of sound to respond to us. I started to wonder why they were so hesitant to teach them to speak, or to call their vocalizations ‘talking’. As time went on, it seemed obvious that they could talk, and that most of them knew and understood more than they’d admit to.”

“You knew about the bite,” Lydia said, breathing out, slowly. “When Peter bit me, you knew something was going to happen.”

“There was a soldier I suspected of being turned. She survived and recovered from catastrophic injuries too quickly. She said she wasn’t hurt that badly, and I didn’t argue.”

Lydia’s phone rang and she answered it.

“The delivery will be here in thirty minutes,” she said. “Please continue.”

“Not much more to say. She claimed hearing damage from the explosion and got sent home disabled. Haven’t seen her since.”

“And you started to believe?”

“Something like that.”

~

Scott and Kira were just returning to the house when Stiles called. Kira went upstairs while Scott answered.

“Hey, man. How’s your heat going?”

“It sucks,” moaned the Omega. “I need some diiiiick!” He sighed heavily. “Are you sure you’re not just a little gay for this ass?”

“Why aren’t you letting Mr. Argent help you?” he asked. “You’re staying with him, right? Did you guys break up or something? Does he have something against heat sex?” He gave a half shrug when Kira came back downstairs and heard his comment about heat sex.

“Uh.” His friend was silent for a moment. “We weren’t officially dating. And yeah, I kinda ended things, but yeah, he’s helping me.”

“I can hear Peter snickering in the background, too.” Scott rolled his eyes when Stiles’s heartrate skyrocketed. “Stiles, I’ve known about you and Chris since Vegas,” he said. “Maybe not during the trip, but Allison showed me a photo of her dad at the Bellagio. You stayed there too, and didn’t mention it, and you were sketchy when he dropped off that wild female.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t say anything to Allison,” Scott said. “I do love her, but she’s not entitled to know your business, and she has a history of reacting emotionally sometimes.” He saw a swish of fabric as Kira headed for the door. “Hang on a sec-Kira? Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

“Uh, I should probably go, but I’ll be back later.”

“Scott-Scotty, Scotty don’t let her leave!”

“Stiles wants you to stay,” he held up a finger and she lingered in the doorway. “Gimmie a sec to wrap this up.”

“You just said you love Allison in front of a beautiful, intelligent, courageous woman, and she bolted. What do you think that means?” Stiles whispered, furiously.

“Handle your own lovers, Stiles, leave Kira and me out of your sordid assumptions!” he rose to his feet and managed to sound indignant. He ignored her dropped jaw. “Kira’s not the kind of woman who’d assume that I’m still chasing a longtime friend who I used to date. She’s too smart not to have picked up on how I’m totally into her.” He rolled his eyes at the phone. “Give me a little credit, Dude. Now, you go and chase all the dick till you can’t walk, and I’ll see you when your heat’s over.”

“Thaaaaat’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have smut, but the plot moves forward...honestly I still haven't completely decided on who is the main antagonist, and who is just an asshole. I welcome your thoughts.


	26. A final reunion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight and then more heat sex.

Scott shook his shaggy head and held up the phone.

“Can you believe that guy?” he asked, strolling casually towards Kira.

“N-no?” She looked skittish and uncertain. “Uh, maybe. I mean, I don’t know anything about your personal life prior to…very recently. I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“My relationship with Allison was complicated, and it was on and off for a long time. We’ve both dated other people, but yes, we’ve hooked up from time to time.” He kept walking towards her, slowly. “We’ve been friends for longer than we’ve been together, and if she said she met someone she really cared for, I’d be happy for her.” He leaned into the doorway on the opposite side as Kira.

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Kira said, blushing, prettily.

“No,” he agreed, “but I didn’t want to risk you misinterpreting my actions.”

“That’s a really good explanation.”

“You can thank Lydia,” he said. “I was so oblivious in high school, and I didn’t have a clue how to express myself. In college, I used to send her screenshots of my conversations if my girlfriend seemed upset.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, although in college, apparently she was projecting guilt over sleeping with one of my fraternity brothers onto me, but that’s a whole other story.”

“College,” Kira said, longingly and her face fell. “Picking up my life after disappearing for over a year is going to be a challenge.”

“What will you do?”

“I had a little time to prepare, so it’s not as bad as it could be. But I feel so out-of-touch.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“Maybe,” Kira shrugged. “I already got my Bachelor’s, I was starting grad school, but I might not want to continue studying political science.”

“It’s okay to take a break, and figure it out.”

“Says the young vet student.” She smiled. “I’m not sure I feel safe, yet. The idea that the people who shot up the picnic might have been watching us for a long time is kind of scary. I don’t want to be on a database with a schedule.”

“Let me know what I can do to help.”

“You’ve done a lot, already. And you’ve been far more understanding than I’d have expected for someone who was turned against their will.”

“I’ve had asthma for years, and now I don’t.” His eyebrows knit together. “I feel like there should be a ‘huff and puff’ reference in there somewhere.” He tilted his head to the side. “Why aren’t your parents in your pack?”

“Kitsune aren’t pack animals. We don’t even usually become human, like my mom. But she knew a wolf, an Alpha, and when I had trouble adjusting-keep in mind I wasn’t told what I was until I manifested in my teens- Mom talked to her friend who sent me to Duke. He’s really good at teaching control, and even though foxes and wolves don’t usually get along, I fit in with the pack.

“What’s your real name?”

“Kira works. Mom said she used to change her name fairly often, and since they’ve been living under new names too, I’m just going to add mine to theirs.”

“So, Yukimura…”

“Not the original name, but we’re going with it for now.”

“What about Malia?”

“She’s changing hers now too, so she’ll just stick with Malia.”

“What about Isaac?” Scott was curious, but when he asked, he saw Kira’s face fall. “What it is? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” she shook her head. “We’ll stick with Isaac till he tells us otherwise. I just…I’ve never seen him so happy.” She leaned her forehead against the doorway. “I’ve known him for a few years and he’s always been a little moody, but mostly just too anxious to really relax and be happy.”

“Why?”

“His dad loved him, but it wasn’t easy for him to show affection. I think Isaac’s grandfather was a bit rough on his dad.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be for him to remember everything that happened.” She looked up at Scott. “He was a wreck, practically catatonic. I think if Duke hadn’t needed his help, he’d have just wasted away. He was really driven to do this, he really wanted to find the people responsible, but I think part of it might’ve been because he didn’t want to remember…anything.”

“I’ve often thought it would be cool to be an animal. I’d prefer to be a house cat, though.” Scott folded his arms. “Only reason I wouldn’t have wanted to be a Were, is because of the hunting.” He scratched his ear. “How did you survive without shifting?”

“We live in California,” she said with a shrug. “I can definitely remember being cold, but the pack knew and stayed close. I mean, I’m more resilient than a human, and I run a little hotter, but I don’t have as good a temperature regulator as you.”

“Are you saying I’m hot?”

~

Stiles had two other waves of heat where he lost a little time to the haze of endorphins before woke in the shower with Peter fingering his ass while the Omega clutched at Chris’s shoulders. The hunter was giving him another earth-shattering bj and he had been babbling incoherently about the skills, and how much he wanted to be knotted by Peter. For all of the indifference he’d shown Stiles when he’d woken up, he clearly had at least a sense of responsibility.

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” Peter said, solemnly. “I won’t hurt you again.”

“Did you read spiderman?” he forgot about his ass, and his dick for a moment and turned to look at Peter. “I never took you for a comics guy.” He then doubled over and came hard down Chris’s throat. “Oh, oh God. It’s too much.” The hunter pulled off his still-hard cock, which looked flushed and angry.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Peter pulled him back up against his chest with one arm draped across his front.

“I n-need more!”

“We’ve got you.” Chris’s voice was all business. He shut off the shower and guided Stiles who was clutching at his abdomen. They took turns toweling off while they rubbed him gently, not wanting their limbs to be too slippery. They made it halfway to the bed before the Omega’s legs gave out and Peter scooped him up and plopped him on fresh sheets. Chris came over on the other side of the bed and pulled Stiles’s hands away from his dick and pulled them outward while Peter gripped his feet. He squirmed, face down in the sheets, trying to rub himself off on the firm mattress. “Do it,” the hunter said, nodding to the pump bottle of lube beside the bed.

“Maybe you should do it,” Peter said, reaching for the lube.

“He needs you,” Chris replied. “This heat’s been rough on him, I didn’t think it would matter which of us did it, but his heat ma have been triggered by you knotting him, and whatever Duke did inside his mind.”

“I just…” As Peter spoke, he lubed up two fingers and slipped them inside the Omega. “Fuck! He feels so good.” Stiles keened and pushed his ass up, desperate for more. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want…”

“You don’t want to bond with him.” He felt Stiles stiffen up underneath him. “Shit.”

“Did you forget I’m h-here?” Stiles was shivering.

“No, Darling, I forgot who I am. For six years, and I’m afraid of losing that again.” He pushed Stiles’s legs apart and climbed onto the bed, rubbing a few drops of lube over his dick. Chris kept the Omega’s squirming hands pinned and Peter held his hips still. “I’ve just been selfish and stupid, Sweet Boy.” He pushed inside the soft passage. “You are truly exquisite.” He stroked the pale skin and pushed in deep. “I’m going to give you what you need, Stiles. You’re going to take it like a good boy.”

“Yes,” Stiles sighed, letting the tension leave his body as Peter started thrusting. It scratched an itch that was new to Peter, the way the Omega calmed under his touch and his orders. Instead of getting more worked up by the sex, his heat-drunk anxiety was abating before his knot had even formed. Chris’s hands pinning him down had helped because they clearly had an established dynamic, but Peter’s words, his assurances had brought on the biggest change. He saw Stiles squeezing Chris’s hands and bracing himself against the impact of Peter’s hips on his, and seeing it made something click. Chris used his strength to anchor Stiles, and Stiles the man trusted the hunter to hold him down when he needed it. The Omega inside the man trusted Peter as an Alpha to provide what he needed.

_Pack!_ Peter’s knot swelled and he kept thrusting, pushing it in and out of the slick hole until it started to catch. It took longer now that they were days into his heat, but it felt amazing to have the pressure on the outside of his sensitive knot and the way he stretched around him like he was made to take a knot this big. Stiles’s back arched, and he bore down as naturally as he breathed, and the knot slid in one last time before he tightened up and locked it inside. He was reduced to the primal pleasure of mounting and covering a receptive body, and being tightly clutched within it. He held himself on elbows and knees, face tucked against Stiles’s back, and let himself rock gently, flexing his hips as he leisurely spurted inside the slick, hot passage.

The orgasm went through the Alpha’s entire body and the endorphin rush was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He felt a pair of hands in his hair and leaned into Chris’s touch. He throbbed with a different longing, one he’d felt only in his head before now. He saw the hunter’s flushed face and chest, his hard, massive cock. He Gently lifted Stiles and turned them both until they were lying with their heads near the headboard. He arranged the limp Omega beneath him.

“I need you,” Peter whispered. “I want you to finish inside me.” He didn’t just want it, he was starving for it. His wolf wouldn’t let Argent near his ass earlier, and even when he’d practically begged the man to ease his lust, his wolf had balked. Claiming Stiles after Argent had filled him with cum had been an easier step, his wolf had been competitive and eager. It had even been distracted enough by the Omega to allow Chris’s touches when soothing the Omega after their first round. Peter’s own rut rose and fell, but his control was far better now than it had ever been. He’d retained a significant portion of his reasoning, presumably to ensure the safety of their den and to watch for danger. He’d been compelled to prioritize Stiles’s needs, but eventually Chris’s became important to him as well. When Chris’s rut had reared its ugly head, he’d given up his place in Stiles’s mouth so that the hunter could slake his lust in their boy.

When Stiles had woken Peter with the sweetest, innocently heat-drunk blowjob, he’d felt like a king. The old Peter would have knotted his boy several times, but he was too fearful of hurting him again. He’d convinced Chris to join him, instead. Peter was well above average, but he wasn’t porn star hung like Argent, so they’d only ever talked about sharing a boy. They’d discussed trying with a woman but hadn’t ever had the chance. Stiles in heat was perfect for them, and his wolf had welcomed another, bigger cock into his Omega. The reminder of their youthful indiscretions had been quite acute as their cocks had rubbed together in the tight space.

Peter’s rut had flared when Stiles was sleeping, and he’d reached for Chris-who’d apparently kept up his remarkable skills-and his wolf had given up its last bit of resistance to the hunter as a new/old sex partner. It had been glorious to be held down by the strong hand while his mouth had worshipped the other Alpha’s cock. He’d wanted to return the favor, but Stiles had come back with snacks.

Now, with his body swimming in endorphins, Peter welcomed the feeling of long, slick fingers pushing into his ass without hesitation. He urged the hunter to be efficient, not wanting to wait any longer.

“Okay, but you’re tense.”

“Do it, Christopher,” he whispered, and felt the fingers withdraw from his ass quickly. “I’ve waited such a long time for this.” He felt the slick, lubed head press against him and bore down. He popped the head in without a problem but met resistance as his cock got wider. Peter braced his hands against the headboard and pushed into Stiles as deeply as he could. “Make me take every inch, Argent, and don’t stop till you knot me.” He felt Chris’s hesitation. “You don’t know how much I need this.”

Chris withdrew, added more lube and then dug his fingers into Peter’s hips and pushed in until he bottomed out. The other Alpha gasped at the burn, but he heard the deep voice, like melted chocolate in his ear.

“You can take it.” It made Peter’s wolf tremble and he arched his back as far as he could without pulling on Stiles’s rim. He felt the prick of claws and knew they were intentional, a dominating gesture and a threat to let himself be mounted like a good bitch. Then Chris was giving it to him, he was railing Peter’s ass like he wanted to tear through him and get to Stiles. He laughed because as easy as it would be to think that, this was purely Chris. This was how he’d fucked Peter the first time. Possessive, angry, punishing sex. Chris had something to prove, and he was doing it the only way he could. Totally consensual, and with explicit permission.

The bed was in danger of breaking from the force of Chris’s thrusts. Stiles was jarred out of his euphoric bliss by the motion. He was stuck on Peter but his hands gripped the headboard as well as he could in order to move with the other two bodies on top of him.

“Why. Couldn’t. You. Wait. For. Me. To. Wake. Up?” Each word was punched out of him by Chris’s thrusts. Peter’s prostate had been distracted enough by the burn not to be overstimulated, earlier, but with Stiles clenching on him, and Chris’s sheer size hitting his prostate, he was swept up into another rapid arousal. His confused body released his knot in order to fill his rapidly lengthening cock. “Oh, yeah,” Stiles moaned and then Chris’s hand left Peter’s hip to pin the Omega down by his neck.

“Don’t move, Stiles,” Chris growled, and the Omega stiffened his legs, braced his hands and arched his back, letting Peter slide in and out of him as the knot loosened up. Peter shuddered with the sensation of being fucked raw by Chris and involuntarily fucking Stiles by proximity. He felt the swelling of Chris’s knot and despite knowing how unprepared he was for it, he still begged.

“Please, I need it,” he whispered, and Argent shoved the knot inside as he bit down on Peter’s nape and locked his jaws into place. Peter almost howled as he came with a mix of pleasure and pain. His knot didn’t inflate again, but he couldn’t move so Stiles took the initiative and fucked himself backwards, swearing at both of them and jerking his own cock since their hands were too busy to help him. He came, prompting one last, weak spurt from Peter before rolling out from under the two Alphas, still cursing like a sailor and spouting words that were both filthy and insulting in a string of insults neither Alpha had heard before. When he rose stiffly from the bed, he noticed their expressions, or at least Peter’s, because Chris still had his mouth full of Peter’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’ve kissed us with that mouth,” Peter panted.

“Shut up, knot-thief!” Stiles limped to the bathroom and slammed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be more sexy times, but continuing the plot post-heat. Isaac insight.


	27. coming together and falling apart

Jackson had offered to get Duke some appropriate clothes while the twins, the Sheriff, and Deaton had talked the night Stiles, Chris and Peter had disappeared for Stiles’s heat. They’d met after the shelter workers left and Jackson had hurried off to the mall before it closed. Duke was impressed that the young wolf had been willing to do something menial while the others made plans without him, but he recognized the beginnings of maturity. He’d essentially been raised by Lydia Martin, and Jackson had been unable to avoid picking up some of her intelligence. He was making a humble gesture and a tactical retreat, not wanting to be noticed at the moment. Or, not wanting to be asked to do anything worse than shop for clothes.

The Sheriff had opened the side gate for Jackson and Duke had been surprised to find a variety of clothes, socks, and shoes. Before losing his pack and his sight, Duke had been a careful dresser who’d been conscious of his assets and had kept his style neat and classy but never ostentatious. He excused himself to the employee locker room and shifted in order to see properly as he opened the first bag. There were two pairs of jeans that were fitted without being too tight in gray and dark blue, three t-shirts in thin, fine cotton: Navy, white, and black. A second bag with the logo of a store that was a bit young for him yielded a pair of black, twill trousers, a long-sleeved, collared shirt in bright blue, and charcoal merino wool sweater. The shirts and sweater were soft to the touch and since he’d been naked for over a year, straight, he appreciated the comfort. There was also a pair of very soft, lounge pants with a cuffed ankle that he suspected he’d be living in whenever possible.

A bag with a higher-end logo held a tweed mohair blazer and a pair of pull-on black leather dress boots along with a leather belt and a wallet. The wallet was a nice touch, and when he opened a smaller bag with a hard, oval case, he found a very good quality pair of sunglasses. He used the toiletries that Deaton had given him and showered, shaved his face, and tidied his hair with a pair of clippers in the tiny shaving mirror he’d been given. When he slid on the underwear, blue jeans, socks, white t-shirt and tweed blazer, he felt strange. The fit was better than he’d expected, but he still had to adjust his junk a few times before he felt like they lay properly in his pants. He fastened the belt and tucked the rest of the clothes back in their respective bags and walked back out to the main part of the barn.

Isaac was teasing Jackson a little, and flirting. He still wasn’t talking, and Duke had mostly entered his mind as an observer. He’d started with the night of the break-in and was looking at a few weeks at a time, moving slowly backwards. Isaac’s innocent trust in him made it easier, because he wasn’t afraid. Duke needed the instinct to trust his Alpha in order to be effective. He knew he’d need to restore his Omega’s memories and personality, but he feared he’d miss the sweet, affectionate Omega who enchanted everyone. If his father and peers hadn’t bullied him, Isaac might’ve become this person naturally, but his fragility had seemed to call out to the cruelty of some.

Duke was also certain he’d lose Isaac, in other ways. Waking from a reduced mental state to discover you’d been running around naked and getting fucked by your Alpha wouldn’t do much for their mutual trust. Duke wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Isaac’s decision to undergo the personality lobotomy had been prompted by complete faith and trust in his Alpha. He knew very well that part of Isaac didn’t care if he regained the memories of his family and pack’s deaths, and part of him didn’t care if he survived at all. He’d just wanted to pain to stop. He’d either remain mistrustful of Duke and always question his Alpha’s feelings towards him, or he’d blame himself for being an Omega and putting Duke in the position to have to breed him or let him be bred by someone else.

Isaac made his way over to Duke and wrinkled his nose at the smell of the new clothes. He petted the mohair jacket and groped the older man’s ass, making Ethan chuckle.

“Looking good, Alpha,” Aiden said, giving him a thumb’s up.

“Do I need to take anything back?” Jackson asked.

“No, everything fits fine, thank you.” He knew the Beta was looking for praise, but he withheld it and focused on the sheriff and Deaton. “I’ll have another session with Isaac tonight. I’m trying to be as gentle as possible and avoid missing details, but I understand the need for expediency.”

“Not as important as keeping Isaac healthy,” Deaton said and the sheriff agreed.

“What you’ve told us so far, and something Stiles said got me looking in another direction.” John wasn’t one for dramatic reveals, but he held out a file folder. “One of the things we’ve been looking for is a pattern of domesticated, Weres who seemed to go feral with little or no warning.”

“And I’ve been speaking to the packs I know and getting a timeline for when Werewolves who lived like humans had gone missing, or feral.”

“I started to turn thing around and try from a different angle,” John continued. They all squeezed into the small office where the sheriff put on his reading glasses and spread out the file. “We’ve been able to pinpoint eight years of attacks ending in a feral Werewolf, but I think I found patient zero.” Duke shifted long enough to look at the photograph on a missing person’s report.

“That’s Boyd,” he said out loud.

“Oddly enough, that’s actually his last name. Vernon Boyd disappeared at age sixteen after school. He left for his job and never arrived. He was from L.A. and kids disappear all the time out there. His medical records were part of the investigation because they wanted to make sure his parents hadn’t done something to him, but according to the local hospital, he’d had a wrist fracture six months prior and needed stitches for a football injury to his lower leg the previous year.”

“He was human,” Duke said. “Didn’t he get seized by the police from a circus?” The Alpha asked. “And they were calling him Boyd at the time, right?”

“Yes,” John replied. “They plead out, paid the fine, took community service and disappeared. No sign of them after that.”

“Do you think they had something to do with it?” Ethan asked. “Seems odd not to change his name.”

“Maybe, but they seemed more like opportunists who bought a cheap, strong Were who was trainable,” John said, rubbing his chin. “He didn’t act the same way that Peter, Derek, and Ennis did.”

“I wonder if he was an experiment to see what would happen to a bitten versus a born Werewolf,” Jackson mused aloud.

“If they wanted violence,” Duke said, “Boyd wouldn’t have been their man. Kali, Ennis, Peter and Derek are and were all born wolves. Their instincts and their senses of identity develop differently than a human’s.” Deaton spoke up after a moment.

“Bitten humans have to learn to anchor their wolf and make it part of them, but a born wolf needs to separate the wolf from himself in order to pass as human.” The vet looked pensive. “The toxin also has an amnestic effect during the time the Werewolf is feral.” He turned and looked at Derek. “Even if we brought him back, he might not be able to tell us anymore.”

“Lydia and her young man are here,” Duke said, raising his chin slightly.

The group relaxed for a few minutes until Lydia and Jordan joined them. Deaton caught them up to speed and Lydia eyed Duke’s outfit with cool detachment and then looked at Jackson’s guilty face. She said nothing, but Duke had a guess where an unemployed Werewolf might’ve gotten the money to fund his wardrobe. Lydia turned away from all of them and went to Derek’s stall. The broody wolf seemed nervous and she shooed everyone back to the office while she gave him some attention.

“Your young man and the Sheriff are going to look into the circus that had Boyd,” Duke said, standing several feet out of Derek’s reach. He shifted in order to be able to see Lydia’s face.

“You knew Derek’s mother,” Lydia said, keeping her tone soft, as if she was just cooing nonsense words at Derek while she groomed him. “Why would she be ashamed of Derek for protecting me?”

“I apologize for my behavior,” he said.

“Why would Talia Hale be ashamed of Derek?” She turned cool, green eyes on him. “What did he do that you hate so much?”

“At the time, I was impatient and had a short interval in which to work. I was feeling perturbed at doing all of the work in order to try to get Derek to return to his senses. I’m afraid I was being uncharitable-”

“Why would Talia be ashamed?” Lydia’s voice dropped a few degrees. “It’s important.”

“His desperation to be close to you,” he replied. “He’s so insecure, he thinks of nothing but claiming your attention when you’re in the building. He tracks you, constantly, and despite his efforts to hide it, he only approaches happiness when you’ve touched him recently.”

“That’s not pathetic,” Lydia said. “That’s conditioning, and he already had those traits when Chris found him. What’s more likely, Derek developing co-dependence on his sister, who’s his Pack Alpha, or someone who kept him captive for four years?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Like I said, I wasn’t in the best of moods.”

“No, but you missed an important detail while you were studying us over the last year.” She regarded his outfit coolly. “I suggest you let go of some of your assumptions so we can work together.”

“Very well.”

“What’s going on with your FBI agent?” she asked. “When does he expect the bite, and have your minions ratted us out to him yet?”

Duke could hear Aiden, Ethan, and Jackson tense up. They were listening from the office and Lydia’s expression said she knew they would be.

“Agent Jones has been eagerly awaiting a call from Ethan and Aiden to tell him when he can follow my next orders.”

“Have you only met in person the one time?”

“He saw me in my cage, but we only spoke once.” Duke had put the agent on the back burner. The man was greedy like Jackson, but with more patience and less self-preservation. He wanted something badly enough to compromise himself, but he had a poor understanding of what Duke would want in return. “He seems to think he’d be the only Werewolf in the FBI.”

“Wants to be a big fish in a small pond?”

“I believe so.”

“FBI has little or nothing to do with wild Weres, as far as I know,” Lydia said. “The military branches had more use for them, and FBI won’t take on the liability of training Weres for hostage retrieval.”

“You’ve been reading.”

“Don’t patronize me when you’re wearing clothes Jackson bought with _my_ money.”

“I won’t patronize you at all, Lydia. I think you stopped needing validation a long time ago.” He let his shift drop back so he could smile charmingly. “You’re a bit more like me than you realize. We both conceal our true selves.”

“I stopped doing that too,” she replied. “I just don’t feel the need to show off.”

“Do you know when this daughter of Chris Argent’s will be returning from Los Angeles?” he asked. “I’m about to get into the memories of Isaac’s time with her. I know she’s not aware of her father’s situation, but why don’t you trust her?”

“Allison has never appeared to be anything but a good person. She’s changed since her mom died, but not who she fundamentally is.”

“Then why the anxiety around her?”

“She spends more time with her grandfather and her aunt than her father, which isn’t good for anyone. Unfortunately, her compassion for them means she might not perceive them as dangerous.”

“She’s in a position to be influenced by them to their way of thinking. And since everyone here believes that hunters are responsible for the distribution of the toxin, it puts Kate and her father at the top of the list of suspects.”

“Yes,” Lydia said, and she smiled at Isaac who sauntered over to socialize. “ _I’ll_ go shopping for Isaac when he wants to start wearing clothes again.” She let Isaac into Derek’s stall where the Omega took over grooming the Alpha and stood in the doorway. “Anything traumatic in Isaac’s memories so far?”

“Afraid of the woods. I had my minions take him from Los Angeles and bring him to this area, so that was upsetting, but while he was there, he seemed quite fond of her, and vice-versa, but she was hiding him from someone.”

“Mmmh.” Lydia pursed her lips together and turned to watch Isaac and Derek. “I think they had a routine,” she said, quietly. “They act like the cousins who come to visit at holidays.”

“Long enough to build a bond, which takes some privacy,” Duke added. “I’m thinking they would be alone together for enough time to interact but kept apart for long intervals in between.”

“And whatever conditioning Derek received, Isaac’s visits didn’t result in punishment, or at least not enough to prevent them from bonding.”

“Maybe having a friend come over was a reward. Maybe being friendly with each other was something they wanted.” He rubbed his chin.

“Derek didn’t seem interested in him sexually.”

“An Omega Were incites more than lust.” Duke looked away, having the good grace to look ashamed. “They spread a sense of contentment with them. Derek didn’t respond to that in a typical way, so he’s likely formed ab bond with you. “When Chris Argent returns, I think he might have some insight. He was using his knowledge of hunters, known Were attacks, and other relevant information to try and triangulate significant places where attacks have happened.”

“Hopefully we’ll get a clear picture from Isaac, but I don’t like the idea of getting lazy.”

“Me neither.”

“Boyd may be safe for now, but we should check in with Erica, just to make sure.” Lydia stretched her neck and looked up with a fond expression when Jordan came out of the office. Duke noticed the way her heartrate picked up and his scent changed to disappointment. Not jealousy.

“I can’t imagine Boyd was stolen,” Duke said. “They may have found him useless and just gave him away or sold him, especially since he still had his name.”

“I just hope there’s a cure.”

“There is. After all we got Peter back.”

“I’d say it was pretty costly.” She gave him a cold look and called Isaac out of the stall. Derek looked sad, but let the Omega go with a gentle push. “But, feel free to lube up and offer your own ass. Maybe it’ll make things up to Stiles if you get your ass knotted by someone you don’t want.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Don’t even think of trying to sacrifice Isaac to him.” Lydia let Isaac hug her and even pretended she didn’t know he was feeling her breasts when he pulled his hands back. “You’re incorrigible.”

“He’s nineteen,” Duke said. “And he definitely liked girls as a teenager.”

Lydia looked up and saw Jackson staring down at them from the doorway of the office. He looked miserable.

“I think I’m done for the night.” She went back into Derek’s stall and hugged him, eventually letting go and returning to the office. Jackson kept his eyes down when she approached, and she went in to say goodnight to the sheriff and Deaton.

“Ready to call it a night?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah,” Lydia said and left with him.

Duke listened to them drive away and put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder

“Have you always lived with Lydia?”

“Mostly,” he replied, shrugging.

“Do her parents still think you’re her pet?” Duke’s voice was kind, not judgmental.

“Her parents got divorced, and her dad’s new girlfriend hated me and said I couldn’t go to their house any longer. I knew it would be a problem, but the weekend she went to Boston during her first semester, her dad sent me to a farm.”

“What did you do?”

“I waited till no one was watching and used the phone to call Lydia. I left her a message telling her where I was and what her dad had done.”

“What happened?”

“She broke me out two weeks later.”

“Must’ve been worrisome.”

“She was a planner. I knew she’d come for me as long as she’d gotten my message. I did my best to behave like a good Were, but the farm wasn’t a good place.”

“What kinds of things did they do to you?” The Alpha’s voice was gentle. Jackson shrugged without saying anything. “What did they do?”

“Stuff that happens all the time,” he shrugged. “Hardest thing was keeping my mouth shut and pretending I didn’t know it was wrong.”

“Where did you live after that?”

“Lydia guilted her father into paying for her to have her own apartment. I lived there. If people came by, she told them I was a friend.”

“Did you start pretending to be human then?”

“I started training,” he said. “I could pretend some, but I didn’t like talking to other people. I stammered a bit, sometimes I growled when I talked.”

“Did you like it?”

“It felt unnatural,” Jackson confessed. “Lydia and I fought about it sometimes, and she made it clear it was my choice, but that I’d always be in danger of getting taken and sold. No matter how human I looked and sounded, I had no rights.” He leaned back against the wall, “I watched television and movies, Lydia got me to a high school level of education and asked me what I wanted to do with my life.”

“And?”

“I was scared.” Jackson said. “She got the apartment building, let me try living on my own, and think about getting a job.”

“Why do you hate her?”

“I-I don’t hate her.”

“That’s a lie.” Duke placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You need to figure out what you want, and why you hate the person who loves you most.”

Jackson felt the pressure of the Alpha’s influence over him and nodded. He also felt the first tugs of something in his chest. It was a bit like his pull towards Lydia, but stronger. It was a _Pack_ bond. Feeling it acutely made him want to cry, and as hard as he tried to fight it, Duke pulled him into a hug and held him, letting him cry silently. When he was done, Duke squeezed the back of his neck and left to go back into the office.

~

Jordan drove Lydia back to her house and silently walked in with her. She moved like a queen: head up, shoulders back, and walking with intent. He also noticed the tension in her shoulders, and the hands fisted at her sides. He closed the door behind them.

“How are you?” he asked, slipping off his shoes. She turned, looking a little surprised, and opened her mouth like she wanted to say something. “Come here.” He stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. He held her and breathed. “The last few weeks have been overwhelming, and I’m not trying to patronize you when I say you’re handling it far better than most people.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Not everyone who gets attacked by a werewolf and dies gets to walk away from it.” She inhaled and caught a whiff of something smoky. A memory flickered with the scent and she had a flash of a burned out shell of a home and a framed photo. It was gone a moment later, but she put her arms around Jordan and leaned into him. He didn’t try to grope her or push for anything else, he just held her.

“How do you feeling about Jackson?”

“He was never my boyfriend,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant.” He smiled and really did have great dimples. “You’ve been like family for his whole life, now things are different.” He cupped her neck with one big hand. “Finding out he’s been lying for over a year is big. I’m not trying to talk you into being upset, I just wanted to let you know you can talk to me about it if you want.”

“Thanks,” she smiled a little. “You hungry?”

“I could eat, but I could wait.” He out his arm around her. “I’ve got court in the morning, so I can’t stay too late.”

“Do you want to stay here?” She offered casually. “I get it if you need to be at your place, I just thought you might want to try out the new mattress with me.” She blinked a few times. “That actually didn’t come out right.”

“I’d love to stay,” he said. “No expectations other than sleeping beside you.” He jerked his head to the door. “I’ll grab stuff for tomorrow if you want to throw something together, or I can pick up take-out.”

“I’ll make dinner, you grab your stuff.”

Lydia puttered around the kitchen, putting together a cold plate of meat and cheese with condiments and sliced some fresh bread Stiles had made. She felt a fluttery feeling in her chest and wondered if she was getting butterflies for Jordan. She shouldn’t be nervous, because he’d already seen her naked. She dropped the plate she was holding when the butterflies felt like they were erupting from her in a scream. The urge had been too powerful to ignore, like a sneeze, but she hadn’t even taken in a breath. She felt light-headed as the scream stretched out of her, unable to take in a breath. It wasn’t coming from her lungs; it came from someplace deeper, and it went on until she felt her knees collapse beneath her.

~

Scott and Kira made it through dinner with Melissa and Rafe McCall. Things were a little tense at first when Rafe arrived with Cuban food, as the ex-spouses moved around each other awkwardly. Scott gave them a few minutes to chat quietly and he told Kira his dad was telling Melissa that he appreciated her inviting him to _her_ house for dinner. Scot seemed impressed, because apparently his dad had been a dick for almost a decade until they’d reconnected and Rafe McCall had shown some accountability.

Kira could tell that Scott was all about giving people the benefit of the doubt. She thought it was incredibly sweet, but that he was also a bit naïve and worried that he’d trust the wrong person. She enjoyed the Cuban food, and the company, and dodged as many questions as possible. She hoped it came off more as shyness than fear, but Scott good-naturedly told his dad to give the inquisition a rest.

After dinner, Kira and Scott cleaned up the table and did the dishes while Rafe and Melissa had a glass of wine on the couch. Kira laughed at one of Scott’s jokes and turned up to look at him. She could see it in his eyes, he was going in, and she leaned up to meet his lips with hers. The kiss was brief, and then they both went back to the dishes. A moment later they both heard the scream.

“Lydia,” Scott’s eyes flashed, and he brought his hand up to his chest. He looked around the corner into the living room, but his parents weren’t acting like they’d heard a scream he’d felt in his bones. As he caught his breath, he felt a sharp tug deep in his gut. _Peter._ “I have to go,” he said, fumbling for his phone.

“If you say it’s a work emergency, your dad might try to go along.” Kira’s eyes were worried too.

“Come with me.” He slipped out the side door, swung his leg over the bike and Kira joined him. He typed out a text to his dad, started his bike, and tore out of the driveway. He arrived at Lydia’s house in time to see Jordan’s truck pulling away. He knew that Lydia was with Parrish and sped after them. He felt Peter getting closer to them as they drove into town and saw a familiar set of headlights coming from the opposite direction. He pulled up behind Parrish’s truck, but the older man was already out of the truck and running towards a tiny cape tucked back from the road. He ran behind deputy who didn’t slow down when he got to the closed, front door.

“Scott!” The young Werewolf felt his knees buckle as his Alpha’s command hit him in the gut. “Get down!” His chest hit the cold ground as the world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised smut, but it will come soon.


	28. Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom

Scotts ears were ringing, and he felt hands grip his shoulders and drag him back. _Peter_. His Alpha was close, and he felt their connection as he was dragged down the hill and into the street. He felt the older wolf’s claws dig into his shoulder, and the flash of pain made him take in a breath at the heat the flowed through him from the point where the claws pierced his skin.

“It’ll get him to heal,” Chris Argent’s voice was near his shoulder. He blinked but he couldn’t see anything. He tried to rub his eyes, but his hand felt odd.

“Keep your eyes closed, Scott. They need to heal.”

“Lydia,” he rasped.

“She’s here.”

Scott’s vision cleared and he saw that he’d been pulled around to the other side of the truck, keeping Parrish’s vehicle as a barrier.

“Parrish went in,” Peter was saying to someone on the phone, and Stiles had his arms around Lydia.

“Scotty?” Stiles was looking at him.

“You okay?” He nodded but stood up, carefully. Kira was beside him, looking unscathed. She gripped his shoulder with a grave expression.

“Where are we?” Peter asked.

“Erica’s house,” Stiles replied. He looked at Chris and Peter. “What the Hell happened?”

“What’s the street address?” Peter asked and Scott realized he was on the phone with EMS. “I need to tell them where we are.” People were coming out of their homes now, yelling and running away from the burning house. Chris gave him the address, but Scott looked at Lydia. The house wasn’t burning like a house fire, it was mostly dark with flaming debris from the explosion.

“Look!” Kira ran up the small hill towards the house. “Get a blanket!”

A bulky form walked out of the darkness and Stiles was reminded of what his father had told him about the accident that had injured Erica. Parrish’s clothes were blackened and burned away, but he carried a limp figure in his arms.

“She’s alive,” he said, and handed her to Chris Argent before turning around and running back up the steps. Scott stood up and joined Peter as they surrounded Chris and Erica.

“Not good,” Chris said, checking her pulse. He had his head bent low, listening to her breathing.

“No!” Stiles ran forward and cradled the blonde head. He heard an anguished howl as Parrish supported Boyd who was struggling to walk. The darkness his some of his wounds, but Stiles could see shiny patches on his back as he tried to get to Erica.

“Let Boyd get closer,” Parrish said, “give him some space. He’s very gentle, but he’s hurt.” The crowd gathering on the lawn moved away from the massive Were. Scott felt his chest tighten as Boyd knelt beside Erica and tried to pick her up.

“It’s okay, Buddy.” Parrish squeezed the thick shoulder. “Help is coming.” He nodded at Peter who flashed eyes at Boyd. The younger Were calmed but kept a hand on her.

The ambulance arrived and Erica was loaded onto a stretcher. Parrish reluctantly received oxygen, but to Scott’s surprise, he lied about being inside when the house exploded.

Sheriff Stilinski showed up with Deaton and hugged his son and pulled Lydia close as well when they started crying over Erica.

“I need to call my dad,” Scott said, looking at Peter and Chris. “You guys should go.”

“Scott?” Deaton looked concerned.

“I did the home visit when Erica was getting ready to take Boyd home. It’s all electric. Not even the water heater runs on propane.” It seemed very clear to him now. “I think this was arson.”

Deaton sedated Boyd and brought him back to the shelter while Peter and Chris left with Lydia. Stiles moved Parrish’s truck and waited for him to cajole his release from the paramedics. Scott and Kira waited until Rafe McCall showed up. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t near the house when it exploded, so he just said everything was a blur. He let his mother take him to the hospital and one of the neighbors offered to let him park his bike in his shed till he returned. Kira gave him a nod as he drove off and accepted a ride from Scott’s dad. She knew what to say, if he questioned anything. _It all happened so fast._

“Did you, Chris and Peter figure something out?” Sheriff Stilinski asked.

“Working on it,” Stiles replied as his father drove him to Chris Argent’s house to get his jeep. “Lydia…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “One moment we were… talking and the next, Peter and Chris sat up like they could hear something.” He rubbed his forehead. “They both said they heard Lydia scream and that they needed to get to her.”

“Derek, Duke, the twins, and Isaac all heard it,” John said. “Deaton and I didn’t hear anything, but Deaton seemed to know what it was when they described it.” He pulled in beside Chris’s SUV and followed Stiles into the house. He didn’t mention Stiles’s appearance, for which his son was grateful.

“Lydia?” Stiles’s focus was on the redhead who was sitting primly on Argent’s couch and holding a stiff drink. “Are you okay?” She gave him a small smile.

“I’m okay.” She looked up at Peter, who was pacing. His posture was tense and agitated. “Can you do something about him?” She nodded at the Alpha. "He's making me nervous. Peter gave her an apologetic look and sat beside her and Chris begn the questions. 

“What do you remember?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I smelled smoke and Sulphur shortly before it. I had a flashback to a dream I had recently. I was in a big, burned-out house. Like a fire happened a long time ago.” She shuddered. “Anyway, I could smell it, the matches being lit, and then I screamed.”

“You screamed in the barn right before Duke attacked,” Chris said. “Loud enough it rattled our bones. And when Peter and I heard it tonight, we were over a mile away from you, but we both knew you were the one screaming.”

“What does it mean?” Lydia rubbed her forehead.

“Alan said something.” All eyes turned to John. “When the wolves all responded to the scream, Duke told us what they heard. Deaton said, ‘The Wailing Woman’.”

“You might be a Banshee,” Chis said, nodding encouragingly. When he saw three pairs of eyes on him, he clarified. “My family kept records of more than just Werewolves,” he said, uncomfortably. “One of the reasons I didn’t do anything to dismantle the hunter organization is because Werewolves are just the tip of the iceberg.” He sat beside Lydia and took her hands. “I’ve looked things up in it from time to time if I can’t identify something that’s…causing problems.”

“What do you know about banshees?” Lydia asked, green eyes wide.

“Very little, we only go after the troublemakers,” he said with a smile. “To my understanding, a Banshee is essentially human, but one who has a connection to death.” He looked at the mostly-healed bite on her forearm that was little more than four pink dimples in her skin now. “I’ll see if I can get the files from my father.” He stood up and walked away from the group, taking out his phone.

“He’s calling Gerard Argent?” John mumbled.

“Hi Dad, you busy?” He strolled over to the kitchen. “I was wondering if you could look something up for me, might take a few minutes, though.”

“Nothing dangerous, but over the past year or so, I’ve heard three different stories of a screaming woman shortly before someone dies.” He waited and then chuckled fondly. “Ha ha, that was the first thing I asked, but no, a woman wasn’t murdered.” He listened for a minute and rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s likely. I’d rather rule it out before I tell this uh…friend of mine that she should check herself into psych ward.” He chuckled at the end of his sentence. “Yes, I’ll probably still tell her to do that, but she’s a nurse, so if there was one, it wouldn’t be a bad place to hear it.” He listened again. “If it’s long, can you just send me the file.” He sighed heavily. “We’re just friends.” He winked at Stiles who covered his mouth with his hands. “She doesn’t live around here, she’s out in Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

“What’s he doing?” Lydia looked confused.

“Reverse psychology,” John said, sitting down beside Lydia.

“I only need the stuff on Banshees. Oh, alright, send the whole thing.” He paused. “PDF is fine.”

Chris hung up and looked smug. And hot. Stiles wanted to blow him.

Lydia waited until Jordan called her from the hospital and told her he was being kept for a few hours for smoke inhalation. Stiles gave his keys to Peter who went to check on Erica and Jordan, which he thought was kind of sweet. Sheriff Stilinski offered to drive Lydia home, but he looked at Stiles pointedly.

“You waiting until Peter brings your jeep back?” he asked.

“Yes,” Stiles replied, deadpan. Thanks, if you hear anything, let me know.” He looked at his phone. “Scott’s dad talked to the fire marshal who’s going to look into the cause as soon as the scene is safe.” He flipped through his texts. “Deaton wants me to come in tomorrow if possible, we’re going to try and arrange transport for the stable Weres before Theo can get his plan up and running.”

“I’m working on that, too.” John led Lydia to the door. “What about Derek, Boyd, Isaac and Duke?”

“I’m actually working on that,” Chris said. “I know what kind of facility they’ll need for Derek, and how to contain him, and I’ll know where to put him to make sure there’s no hunters around.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow too,” Lydia said. “We really should all try to be there together and touch base.” She nodded to the sheriff who opened the door for her.

~

Stiles went up to Chris’s office to look at the map again. Chris poured him a bourbon and leaned back against the desk to observe all of the pins.

“For all we know, it could be someone importing it from overseas,” Stiles said, sipping the drink. “We don’t even know if it’s a substance that would have an effect on humans. It might only be toxic to Werewolves.”

“There aren’t many,” Chris said, moving to the board, “wolfsbane, mistletoe, a lot of these things are just as deadly to humans.”

“Right, but there are plenty of human-toxic things that have no effect on Weres.” Stiles watched as the Alpha put a pushpin somewhere near Boston. At least, he assumed the hunter was putting it there, it was hard to tell because he was staring at the man’s ass. He tossed back the rest of the bourbon and sucked in a breath, feeling his ass start to throb.

“You’re incorrigible.” Chris hadn’t even turned around when he spoke.

“I didn’t say a word,” Stiles said, innocently. He tried to keep in the trickle of slick he felt seeping out, as the last of his heat reared it’s horny head.

“So, you didn’t get excited checking out my ass?” Chris asked, lightly.

“You’re the one who wore those tight jeans,” he said, standing up indignantly. He was trying for indignant, but his cheeks were red, and he was breathing heavily. “Oh, Fuck.”

“You’re so predictable,” Chris said with a grin.

“What’s in Boston?” Stiles asked, shifting his feet and trying to stay focused as he looked at the pushpin.

“Nothing,” Chris replied, slyly, right before Stiles pounced.

“God, you make me so fucking wet!” Chris fell under the onslaught of kisses from the Omega. He put his arms around his Boy and took the brunt of the fall, chuckling and trying to keep up with Stiles. His Boy straddled his hips and sat up, so he put his feet on the floor and his knees straight up, letting Stiles lean back against his thighs like a chair. He rubbed his ass down on the thickening ridge in the hunter’s pants.

“Your heat’s not quite done with you, yet,” Chris said, settling is hands on Stiles’s hips. The younger man had changed into a pair of Chris’s sweatpants and t-shirt, since his own clothes were in the wash.

“You excite me even when I’m not in heat.” He leaned down and kissed the Alpha slowly.

“All it took was talking about Star Wars that time we hung out.” Chris raised his eyebrows as he rolled his hips up under Stiles’s ass.

“I’m getting the impression you think I’m not picky,” the omega said. “Either that or you’re fishing for a compliment.” He saw a funny look cross the older man’s face. “I’ve had a shitty track record of how people treat me when we’ve hooked up, but probably no more than anyone else who expects romance on Grindr.” Stiles lifted himself and scooted up a little, so he wasn’t dry-humping his lover. “I definitely have a few complexes when it comes to guys knowing I’m an Omega.”

“Tell me,” Chris said, in his low, velvety voice. “I have no frame of reference for your experiences, when I was young, people used to pull their Omega kids out of school, so I rarely spent time with them growing up.”

“There’s a lot of fear, and probably more projection than my counselor would want me to have.” He scratched his ear. “I was so afraid of the stigma growing up, I wouldn’t entertain the thought of being with a guy because they might figure it out. I eventually started trusting my suppressants and liked being with guys, but then I got hit with all of the crap that comes along with that.”

“Closet cases and drunk guys in denial?”

“Yup. Putting hours of effort into getting you alone and dancing around what they want, assuming that because most guys don’t like men, you’ll be grateful that they’re willing to let you blow them in their car.” He placed his hands flat on the older man’s chest. “It was ten times worse with Omega chasers.”

“I hope I haven’t said anything hurtful.”

“Not till I realized you think you need Star Wars and heat season to make me hot.” He pinched a nipple through the fabric of the Alpha’s shirt. “I do like older guys, and I like different qualities in them than I look for in younger ones, but, that’s because I haven’t met someone close to my age who knows how to dominate me without demeaning me.”

“Do you always like being dominated?”

“No, but I don’t think I realized how _much_ I liked it until you showed up in Vegas.” He smiled. “I might’ve had a few discipline fantasies.”

“I might’ve had those too.” He rubbed a hand over Stiles’s chest and sighed as the Omega scooted backwards to roll back onto his cock.

I forget how good this feels,” Stiles said, leaning back against Chris’s legs. “When you’re not desperate for it, but the heat just washes over you, and your whole body gets sensitive.”

“Do you want to wait it out, or wait for Peter?”

“I feel like an asshole for doing this while Erica’s in the hospital.” He reached for his phone, which was sitting on the desk and looked at it.

“Nothing we do here is going to have an effect on what happens at the hospital,” Chris said. “It’s also pretty normal to want to be close to someone when something happens, but if you want, I can take you to the hospital so you can wait there.”

“No, I don’t know her family, and I wouldn’t know what to say when they ask why I was there.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to function in an emergency during an unmedicated heat.”

“You did fine.”

“I think I want to finish our slightly aborted round.”

“Want to get back in the shower like we were?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Stiles reached behind him and tugged at Chris’s belt as the hunter’s smile widened. “I’d like to know what you want to do.” He deftly navigated the belt, button, and zipper with one hand behind his back. “You’re almost always focused on giving me what I want, including in Vegas, but other than the night of the break-in, you haven’t really shown me what you want to do.” He gave the rapidly filling cock a few strokes.

“This is working so far,” Chris reached for the front of the sweatpants that were already riding low on the Omega and freed his hard cock before easing the soft, thin cotton down over his firm buttocks. “I’m more focused on my choice of partner than planning what we do.”

“How did you get so good at sucking dick?” Stiles asked. “You said you and Peter were together when you were young, but that you stuck with girls because of your family.” When Chris blinked at him, he shrugged apologetically. “ADHD, sorry.”

“Way to slut-shame.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stiles said. “I meant, does being what you are make you…the epic sex God you’ve become.” Chris rolled his eyes. “See it from my perspective, Argent. You’ve always been kinda cold. Quiet and polite, but always chilly and somewhat indifferent to the people around you.” Chris raised an eyebrow. “You look surprised by this. Anyway, I wasn’t expecting Vegas.”

“I thought you’d caught me checking you out.”

“Everyone checks me out,” he said without vanity. “I have an interesting face and a lot of energy.” He gave a shrug. “When you seemed friendlier in Vegas, I was pretty sure I knew how it was going to go.”

“I got that impression.”

“Yeah, and I was wrong about parts of it, but can you really blame me?”

“No, I suppose not.” He shifted slightly and Stiles felt his cock head resting against his lower back.

“Seriously, it’s like you just leaned it up against something because it’s too heavy to hold up,” he said drily. Chris laughed loudly at the comment. “Just, for the record, what happened when you changed in the locker rooms in School? And did things … _change_ when you got the bite?” He bounced a little as Chris laughed long enough and hard enough, he had to wipe his eyes. “I can sit here all night,” he said, making him laugh a little more.

“Puberty was the game changer, not the bite,” he said. When Stiles continued to look encouraging, he sighed. “I was even skinnier and ganglier than you, and I didn’t change in the locker rooms because I had more bruises, cuts and scars than basketball could explain.” He gripped Stiles’s cock, making his Boy suck in a breath. “You’ve got a pretty nice one here. Above average, and to be the knobby-kneed kid in the showers packing more than some of your peers, how did you feel?”

“I only got naked to avoid getting wedgies,” he said. “And I’m a grower, not a show-er.” He poked him in the chest. “I guess I figured since you and your hunter buddies ran around with guns all the time that you’d have seemed like a God among insects.” Chris laughed again.

“Not many communal showers to stand in awkwardly,” Chris said, “and most of the dicks swinging around were Weres.” He rubbed the sides of Stiles’s ass where it was bared. Stiles didn’t ask any other questions, but his chest and neck flared with heat. His skin felt tight and sensitive, like he’d had too much sun, but it wasn’t painful.

Stiles reached behind his back and lifted Chris’s engorged penis and rose to his knees as he scooted backwards. The hunter waited, watching him silently as he fit the tip to his slick, wet hole, and slowly sank down. Going slow and controlling it gave Stiles a small shiver; the head was a little tapered but widened significantly about an inch underneath. When he got to the spot where it thickened, he stopped. Not because he wanted to, but because he’d tightened up a bit since his last round.

“Uh, hang on,” he said, wincing. He lifted himself up and sank down again, this time a little faster, and managed to bottom out. Chris sucked in a breath and squeezed his hips.

“Like this,” he hissed. “I’ve had fantasies of us like this; when we’ve still got clothes on, and we’re just having a quickie on my office floor.” He rolled his hips. “Once I knew we’d be in Vegas together, end since then, I’ve thought about you everywhere.” The Omega rode him a little faster, letting out gasping whines as he was filled over and over with the thick, hot organ. “My beautiful Boy,” Chris said. “I’ve thought about you on your knees under my desk or sucking me while I’m driving, and out in the woods where I can fuck you against a tree.”

“Yes!” Stiles’s cock was hard and leaking, and Chris took it in his hand while bucking up underneath his Boy. He gasped and came, spurting over the Alpha’s hand as Chris grunted and filled him with hot fluid. They both panted afterwards before Stiles stood up slowly and shuffled to the bathroom. Stiles put his clothes back on when they were clean and dry, and went back to his apartment, despite Chris’s offer to let him stay. His hormones were swinging back towards normal, and now he was bone tired. He wanted to curl up in his own bed and sleep for a year, but he doubted he’d get more than a few hours before needing to return to work.

~ 

Lydia was standing in the house again and looking at the mantle over the fireplace. She saw that there were more photographs now, some older than others, and some with people whose images were more faded than others. She recognized Derek, Chris, Peter, and guessed some of the others. She was surprised to see a small picture of Isaac, smiling shyly at her. He was faded like…like the others who were still alive.

“Smart girl,” Peter said from behind her.

“You’re not the _you_ I’ve talked to, right?”

“Correct,” He looked pleased. “Do you understand?” he looked at the photos. “Do you know where we are?”

“No, but I’m guessing it’s closer to the dead than the living here.” She watched and Peter bowed his head, slightly. “You’re here too, though.” He nodded. “You’re younger, just a little bit.” He smiled at her. “This place is a memory, right?”

“That explanation works for now,” he said. “But the important thing to remember is that you’re the bridge. You’re the connection between multiple things.”

“The living and the dead?”

“When you’re here, you’re also connecting two other things.” He glanced over at the mantle. Lydia stared at the photographs.

“The past and the future,” she said. She approached and looked more carefully at the photos near the end, At first they didn’t make sense because they showed Erica and Jordan with bright, crisp images, and for a moment she thought they might have died, but beside them were images of a slightly older Jordan wearing his WCO uniform beside Erica wearing a killer set of Leopard heels. They were faded, like the people who were alive.

“I know what Peter knows; all the rest comes from you.” Peter held her shoulders, firmly. “What do you see?”

“Jordan and Erica show up here as both alive and dead.” Lydia bit her lip. “I’m not in any of the photos here, but I died and was revived.” She shook her head. “No, it’s something else.”

“Good girl. But you need to hurry.”

“You know who killed the Hales,” she said turning to face Peter. “You said you were hiding from…her.” She looked into his striking, blue eyes. “Does the real Peter know?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t remember.”

“I know what you are,” she breathed. “I’ll try to help him find you.” She paused and glanced at the door. “Can I trust Duke?”

“I only know what Peter knows, you’re the one with the vision into the future.” He looked worried. “I don’t trust him, but I’ve been betrayed, and I don’t trust easily.”

“Thank you.”

Lydia woke when she felt a warm body slide into bed beside her. She struggled to drag herself back from sleep. Jordan was beside her, looking concerned.

“Do you remember texting me earlier?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, reaching for the water glass beside her bed to moisten her mouth. “I was…dreaming.” She cleared her throat and sat up. “They let you go?”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to go back at the first sign of respiratory distress.” His face looked tired. “They were worried about smoke inhalation.”

“How’s Erica?” Lydia asked

“Stabilized, and when I left, she was actually showing a bit more improvement than the doctors expected.” He lay on his side and tucked his arm under his head. "Peter was there, I didn't talk to him, though. I just caught glimpse of him here and there." He ran a hand over her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You don’t seem scared of me,” she said.

“I’ve felt…drawn to you, since you came back after college,” he said. “I try to listen to my instincts, now. The last time I ignored them, things ended badly.”

“What did your instincts tell you tonight?”

“That I should listen to you and go where you tell me to go, without hesitating.” He kissed her forehead. “I was right.”

“I don’t know what I am,” she said.

“We’ll get there.” He pulled up the sheets and lay an arm over her side, gently. “Tonight, we both need to get a few more hours’ sleep.”

Lydia slept again and didn’t return to the burned-out house. In the morning, she asked Stiles about the Hales.


	29. Bombshells, both blonde and figurative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoo-boy! Getting into some action now, sadly not the naked kind.

Peter walked into his apartment and felt a tug in his chest, one he’d been pushing aside for the last few nights. He smiled when he saw the pizza and other takeout boxes covering the marble countertops in his kitchen, and smelled the food odors of the last week permeating the air. It was the second morning after the fire, and he was getting home for the first time since before Stiles’s heat.

“Old sesame oil and congealed, cold pizza cheese,” he said as he hung up his coat, tiredly. “Reminds me of college.”

“Grub hub and Uber eats is a thing,” Malia said, coming out of the bathroom, her hair was turbaned up in a towel, but he detected a whiff of hair dye.

“Did you change your hair?” he asked.

“If the FBI are going to be hanging out near Kira and me, I thought it would be best to look a little different from when I was in a shelter stall.

“Let’s see it.” He leaned back against the couch and crossed his ankles while Malia dashed back into the bathroom to artfully ruffle her hair. She came out with a shoulder length bob that looked lighter at the ends.

“Baylage,” she said with a shy shrug. “It’ll show up more when its dry.”

“I like the length, Peter said, nodding his approval. “You’re a beautiful woman, and you can pull off almost anything with that bone structure.” He felt a tinge of sadness. “I’m sorry I ran off as soon as you got here,” he said. “And I think the next few weeks are going to get a little more tense.” He rubbed his face, tiredly. “I’ve done something,” he said. “It’s not something I can take back, but I did it to try and help.” He saw her expression turn wary. “I’m hoping it’ll work out to everyone’s benefit.”

“What did you do, Peter?”

~

Stiles worked for the next three days while Scott stayed with Peter to get control over himself. He fed the stable Weres and kept an eye on Theo each day. The handsome beta kept giving him a benign smile each time he caught his eye and eventually went to the office to update their projected availability for essence. He snickered to himself when he thought about how much potential income had been used up during his heat. Peter had made the remark about shooting a cool grand down his throat the night they’d stayed at his apartment, but during an Omega’s heat, he’d have produced at least double during each ejaculation, and nearly three times that when knotting Stiles. Chris had reluctantly agreed to aid the shelter in filling their current orders, but he still needed to submit a sample to Deaton for testing.

Deaton had gone to the hospital to see Erica that morning, and the sheriff arrived to assist in the midday feeding. Stiles hugged him when he let himself in and enjoyed the feel of his father’s strong arms giving him a solid squeeze. He’d always been a little needier when it came to affection, and John had never been ashamed to give it. Derek had been a little cool towards Stiles, even going as far as to refuse the pear he’d brought. The Alpha perked up a little when John arrived, however and the Omega watched their dynamic with new eyes.

John had been far too busy to keep up with volunteering regularly, but like Melissa McCall, he’d been actively supportive of his son’s job and had pitched in when needed. He was taking Derek for exercise and had brought some softballs and other sports equipment. He greeted Derek and brought the equipment out to the enclosure, and when he returned, the young Alpha was looking alert and almost giddy. With all of the excitement, he’d had a lot less play time, and none with Peter or Boyd, so he was quite restless. The Sheriff went into his stall and accepted an enthusiastic hug from the Were, which surprised Stiles and John. He laughed and thumped the Were soundly on the back before leading him out to the enclosure.

After Derek and John left, Stiles walked down to where Duke was sitting outside of Boyd’s stall in a chair. The big, dark Were lay on the floor of his stall, looking depressed.

“I’ve been talking to him since breakfast,” Duke said as Stiles pulled up another chair. “He’s barely responded.” The older werewolf seemed sad. “He’s…a good man, and I hate seeing him so sad.”

“Did he eat the limes?” Stiles asked, but Duke just pointed to where the fruit were piled in a corner. “Deaton’s gone to check on…her. He’ll give us an update when he gets back, I just hope it’s good news.” He sat heavily and sighed. “When we adopt out the Weres, abut ten percent of them come back within a few months.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We do our best, but they don’t really flourish here unless it’s a significant improvement from where they were before. When they go into a home, the people who adopt them don’t realize how much it means to them to be part of a family; when they get returned, its so devastating to them.” He turned to the older Were. “With what you know, how can we help them going forward? Should we try to teach them to read?”

“I appreciate what you want to do,” Duke said, giving Stiles a regretful look, “but you don’t have the funding or the housing to bring Werewolves with little or no human socialization up to human standards. You’d have to pick and choose the youngest, separate them from their pack, and then raise them with humans.” He sighed. “I’ve faced this choice before and with the necessity of keeping most humans in the dark, it’s not realistic without more money and privacy.”

“Giving more sick humans the bite would probably be worse without the Pack Alphas having the understanding of what they were doing.”

“Correct,” Duke said, and as if he could hear Stiles thinking, he added, “Don’t think of wild Weres’ lives as a waste of potential. A long as they’re safe, they don’t need the trappings of civilization to find fulfillment. Living as humans we lose certain things, and there are times I wonder if we’re really happier knowing what’s out here.”

“Can a pack flourish from generation to generation in the world we call civilized?” Stiles looked at the older wolf. “I understand you’re not entirely safe from habitat encroachment, but I can’t stop that from happening, and humans in general won’t want to.”

“Don’t lump me in with the wild packs,” Duke said. “I’ve no idea what it’s like to live among them. I was raised in London in an upper-class home. I was educated with the rich and famous, and so were my parents.”

“I’m not trying to insult you, but I truly, have no frame of reference. As far as slavery and treatment of indigenous people, it doesn’t even come close to this kind of misunderstanding.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Maybe.” Stiles frowned.

“What are you really thinking about, Stiles?”

“Too much to put easily into words,” he said, and got up. “I’m going to bring Isaac to the exercise enclosure, let my dad know we’re coming, please.” He left the older wolf and went back to the stable where he found Tracy and Corey beside Isaac’s room. “Hey Tracy, hey Corey,” he said, casually and saw them jump apart. “Isaac could probably use some exercise,” he said with a smile. “Has he been flirting with you through the window?” He squeezed Corey’s shoulder and the younger man smiled nervously.

“He’s so…sweet,” Tracy said, quietly. “We’re not trying to ditch our work, he’s just hard to resist.” She sounded earnest, and although Stiles knew she was part of the conspiracy that had turned deadly, he reminded himself to respond to her the way he normally would have.

“You guys want to visit with him?” he asked.

“Can we?” Corey looked surprised.

“Yeah, but he’s funny about the way some people smell, do you mind washing your hands really well and leaving your overshirts off?” he nodded to a bench in the hallway. The two eagerly obeyed and he saw Tracy glancing down the hallway. “Don’t spread it around, I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“Sure,” Tracy said.

Stiles warned them to leave their wallets and jewelry with their shirts, because Isaac could be handsy. They both dropped their personal items and he stepped into the clinic to grab some treats for Isaac, and top open the door that led through to the Alpha barn. His father waited on the other side of the door, having received Stiles’s message via Duke eavesdropping. John waited while Stiles went into the room with Isaac to slip out into the hallway. Tracy and Corey went in and sat on Isaac’s bed and waited while the curious Omega treated them like new toys and approached them cautiously at first, and then enthusiastically pawed at them, molested Tracy a little, and tried to groom Corey whose hair was too short for a good session.

Stiles faced the window on the other side of the wall and kept the humans’ attention focused on him while he saw tiny flashes of movement at the edge of the window, indicating his father’s attempts to search their belongings. Isaac was his usual sweet, adorable self and curled up behind Tracy on his bed to pet and toy with her long hair. He handed them some grapes and nuts to feed the Omega Were and started chatting with them about him when they asked questions.

“How old is he?” Corey asked.

“He presented shortly after arriving, and that’s usually in the early teens, but he was really undernourished, so he could be older,” Stiles said. “He’s tall for an Omega, but he could’ve had two tall Beta parents, or a Bea and an Alpha parent who both had recessive genes.”

“He’s so sweet,” Tracy said, chuckling as he tried to grope the sides of one of her breasts. “One-track mind,” she said, letting him nuzzle her neck. “Like all guys.”

“Who brought him in?”

“Why do you want to know?” Stiles tilted his head and looked at Corey.

“Three guys died breaking in here,” Corey replied, looking uncomfortable, “I’m not trying to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but maybe he was stolen.”

“I understand your curiosity, but we’re letting the FBI handle it,” Stiles said. “And they don’t want us discussing the case with anyone.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay to ask questions.” He gave them both a smile and watched as Corey tentatively reached out to rub Isaac’s lower back. The Omega started to rumble contentedly and stretched, blinking sleepily as he toyed with Tracy’s hair and enjoyed the contact. He was pretty sure his dad would have had time to search, but he gave them both some more treats to feed Isaac. Eventually Isaac rolled to his side and tried to casually move Corey’s hand to his crotch. Stiles swatted the Omega’s rear and he grumbled but rolled onto his front again. After ten minutes, he brought the two part-time volunteer/employees back out. “Does everyone have everything they went in with?” he asked.

“I think I left my dignity in there,” Corey said, shyly.

“Yeah, Isaac’s a total pushover for affection, and to him it seems like a great way to make friends.” Stiles waited while they picked up their stuff and wasn’t surprised when Theo came around the corner.

“Oh, I was just looking for you guys,” he said, smiling.

“We were hanging out with Isaac,” Corey said.

“Jealous,” Theo said. “He’s sweet, I’ve only had a little contact with him.” He turned to Stiles. “I’m happy to help with him too. He’s rare, and I admit to some curiosity, but Omega Weres seem like they’re different than the others.”

“He’s pretty special.” Stiles took Isaac to the exercise area where John had begun playing with Derek. He was hitting softballs across the enclosure to Derek who was making some spectacular catches and throwing them back. John shouted encouragement to the Were who looked energetic and elated to have the challenge. “Incoming!” Stiles gave warning as he let Isaac into the enclosure. The Omega happily pounced on John, who had a good rapport with most Weres.

“It seems the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” Stiles was standing near the door and heard Duke’s voice. The Werewolf remained out of sight in case anyone wandered to the bleachers. A stylishly dressed visitor to the restricted barn would stand out, and all of the Weres had been seen at one point or another by the staff and volunteers when they were exercising.

“He's the dadliest-dad to ever dad. Weres seem to understand that and he treats them like sons and daughters. You should see him with babies,” Stiles replied. “Did he find anything?”

“Not much to find, he didn’t have time to break into their phones.” They both watched the two Weres and the sheriff.

John was deceptively strong. He looked like he was a fit and athletic guy who looked good for his late fifties, and he usually let people believe that was it, but when Isaac decided he wanted a piggy-back ride and jumped on the sheriff's back, the man took the added weight and obliged the young Werewolf. Stiles picked up the softballs and juggled a few while Derek looked on enviously at Isaac.

“You must miss your dad,” Stiles said to the Alpha Were. Derek turned and looked at him in a very focused way, almost like he'd understood him. It occurred to Stiles that Peter had responded to being treated like a man. Then he surprised the Omega by turning around and bending down. Stiles carefully climbed on and then it was time to race! It broke several protocols for the Alphas, but with two humans and an Omega, it seemed fairly safe. Once Derek let him down, Stiles let Derek climb on his back while his dad watched them warily. He couldn't run as fast as his dad when carrying the solidly built Alpha, but he did alright. Eventually, Isaac switched as well, and Derek grasped hands with John and fake-wrestled with the human. It always made Stiles excited when the Weres had shown advanced comprehension of humor.

Once the humans were tired, they hit baseballs for the Weres until two hours had passed and most of the volunteers and employees had gone home. Stiles heard Deaton’s truck pull up at the house and got a text message asking him, John and Duke to go to the house. Duke had a concerned expression on his face.

“He’s got company,” Duke said.

Stiles let his father and Duke go ahead of him while he locked down the barn. Boyd, to his surprise, seemed more alert as he looked in the direction of the house. The Omega hurried up to join his father and boss and was shocked when he walked through the kitchen door and saw Erica Reyes sitting at the table with Peter.

“Uh,” Stiles couldn’t think of anything else to say. Erica looked good. In fact, she looked fantastic. Her skin glowed with health, and despite the patches where it had been singed away, her hair looked sleeker than before the explosion. “Erica are you…” he looked at Peter who had the decency to drop his gaze to the table. “Peter?”

“I couldn’t save my family when it happened to us,” Peter said. “I just wanted to save…someone. Erica had forgiven me for not asking her permission.”

“Hey, Stiles.” The blonde stood up and held out her arms; she was wearing hospital scrubs. “No more seizures. No more…dying. At least not from the explosion.” She bit her lip. “How’s Boyd?”

“Missing you a lot.” He reached for her and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He realized after a moment that they were both crying.

~

The week following Erica’s revelation was tense, to say the least. Peter was training his two newest betas intensively and bonding with Malia in the process. Chris was focused on his hunter contacts and looking for connections that might link some of them to the missing Weres. Stiles, Deaton, Lydia, Jordan and to a more limited extent, John were all doing their best to keep an eye on the shelter and its occupants. After one very long day, Stiles was kicking back at his apartment, sitting gingerly to avoid the spot on his ass where he’d just gotten his most recent suppressant injection. A knock on the door had him ambling over to answer it after checking the peephole.

“What can I do for the FBI?” he asked Agent Jones. “Is everything okay?”

“I know what you are,” Jones said, stepping forward. He reached into his pocket and Stiles jerked back from him, lunging for his phone. He felt a leather strap snap around his wrist and paused in confusion.

“What?” His hesitation got the other wrist trapped as well, and then he was standing, face-to face, with Agent Jones who held a leather belt. He was so surprised he just stood there as Jones kicked the door shut behind them. He had to hand it to the guy, he moved a lot quicker than expected, and his moves were good. “That escalated really quickly,” he said, eyebrows raised. It was one of the strangest situations he’d ever found himself in. “What do you think I am?” he asked.

“After the break-in, Duke promised he’d turn me if I helped. Then, suddenly, Peter Hale is out and walking around, there was a young male admitted to the hospital with a Were bite and then you stayed at the shelter for almost a week straight.”

“What do you know about Peter Hale?” Stiles asked with a small smile. “Duke never said what he told you.” He saw the young agent’s jaw tighten. “Tell me what he told you, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Craig, I’m aware of your little deal with Duke, but you don’t know the whole story. You should also know that _Duke_ didn’t turn me.” He didn’t lie, he just stressed a word in the sentence that implied something that was less-than truthful. “Duke hasn’t turned anyone yet. We figured him out, he attacked us, and then he ended up right back behind bars until he cooperated.” He waited and was a little disappointed when Jones didn’t explode with denials and curses and give him an opening to deck the guy.

“How long did it take?”

“What?”

“For the change? For you to get control?”

“Oh, that varies a lot depending on when you get the bite, your condition at the time, and how close you are to the full moon. Peter’s much stronger than most, and came from a long line of strong Alphas, so he can actually use the pack bond to control the shift of his betas. It helps when the bite comes…unexpectedly.”

“What do you mean by, ‘Your condition’?”

“I know others who’ve gotten the bite because they were fatally injured. It took them three or four days to change enough that they couldn’t cross a mountain ash barrier.”

“How long did it take you?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been bitten.” He kicked Craig Jones squarely in the crotch, and then punched him in the face with his hands clasped in a double fist. He used his teeth to loosen the belt around his wrists while he delivered a kick to the side of the man’s head and reached for his phone. Scott was with Peter, and Chris didn’t answer. He tried Deaton, and then his dad, and stepped on the FBI agent’s face when he groaned and tried to roll over. “Fuck this!” he said and dialed Rafe McCall.

“Stiles?”

“Come to my apartment,” he said, holding the phone over Jones and taking a picture. “I know it’s a big ask, but I need you to keep this low-key for Scott’s sake.”

“Is my partner there?” McCall asked, sounding odd.

“Yes.”

“I’m already on my way.”

“Do you have the cavalry?”

“Do I need them?”

“No, and it would be better for your partner if nobody else knew. And to be a hundred percent clear, that’s not a threat, it just means he might get put in jail for what he’s done.”

“I’m twenty minutes away.”

“I’ve got it handled till then.”

Stiles sent text messages to Chris, Peter, Deaton and Lydia before using the belt to secure Jones and removing his sidearm and the tiny derringer he had in an ankle holster. He also took the man’s phone and forced his finger against the print scanner to open it. He used his own phone to take pictures of the recent text conversations and paused when his phone lit up with a call from his father. “Hey, got an FBI agent on my floor. He attacked me without cause and accused me of being a Were. Agent McCall is on his way here, I couldn’t reach anyone else.”

“I’m on my way.”

“You sure?”

“Five minutes.”

Sheriff Stilinski made it in eight minutes, Lydia was there in four.

“You called McCall?” She stood in the doorway looking disapproving. “What did you tell him?” She stood over the agent and looked him over dispassionately.

“He thought Duke bit me and dumped him, and apparently the FBI doesn’t take kindly to being ghosted. I corrected a few of his assumptions to buy time, because he’d put a belt around my wrists, one I assume has mountain ash in it.” He nodded to the bedroom. “I’ve got cuffs in my bedside table, can you get them for me?” Lydia disappeared and he heard her voice a moment later.

“He can probably get out of these, they don’t look very strong,” she called out.

“Cuffs, not restraints; Other side of the bed,” he said. “There’s a standard law enforcement set in the top drawer.”

“Okay.” Lydia came back and gleefully took Stiles’s position as the one with a foot on the agent’s neck as Stiles snapped the cuffs tightly around the man’s wrists before unfastening the belt. “What happened?”

“I answered the door and he attacked me. He put a belt around my wrists and said he knew what I was. He wanted to know how I got control so quickly.” Frowning, he searched the agent thoroughly, making sure he didn’t have anything that could be a recording device. Lydia got a pan of water and he removed Jones’s watch and anything that looked like it could be disguised as a bug or body cam. “We should check the apartment for any listening devices. Probably the barn too.”

“Don’t throw the watch in the water,” Jones said. “Put it in the freezer if you have to do something with it. It belonged to my brother.”

“You want me to treat you with consideration when you attacked me in my apartment?” Stiles asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought-”

“I know what you thought, I’m asking you if you want me to treat you better than you just treated me. Yes, or no?”

“Yes.”

“Put the phone in there, too,” Lydia added and handed over the man’s belt, shoes, keys, and a religious medallion.

Lydia’s phone rang and she showed Stiles the screen, which read ‘PH’.

“Why is he calling _you_ back when I’m the one who texted him?”

“He probably wants to tell me to come save you.” She answered and told Peter to hang on, she was with Stiles and needed to step out of the room. Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, because Stiles hadn’t locked it. He came in with his gun drawn, checked the room and holstered the weapon. His face was tense and he put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, squeezing it in an uncharacteristic show of affection. He nodded when she showed him who she was talking to and she stepped out.

“McCall’s on his way?” John asked, walking over to the agent on the floor.

“Yeah.” Stiles looked down at Jones. “Why did your partner already know you were here?” he asked. “When I called him, I said it was an emergency, and he asked if you were here with me.”

“What did you do, Jones?” The FBI agent remained stubbornly silent. “You’ve just broken one of the biggest taboos in the shifter community by potentially outing them.” He squatted down. “Duke said you were the kind of idiot who assumes he’ll be the only Were who works in law enforcement.” He gave him a bright, wide smile. “I mean, you attacked my kid in my town, so you’re obviously not the brightest Stooge in the trio, but what do you think is going to happen when they all find out you talked openly about them to a human?”

“He’s Duke’s problem,” Lydia said from the doorway. “I say we throw him in the trunk and take him to the shelter so Duke can deal with him.”

“Yeah, can you stall Rafe?”

“I can call him and tell him Jones escaped and that he took off on foot, that’ll give us a little time.” He took a roll of duct tape from the kitchen drawer and tore off a piece. “We don’t need him to talk, Duke can get whatever he needs.”

Jones started to shout but John punched him in the jaw and Stiles put the tape over his mouth. They didn’t have time to take him anywhere before McCall showed up. His gun was also drawn when he walked in, but it was lowered, and his attention was focused on Jones. The corner of the tall man’s mouth was slightly swollen, and there was a drop of blood on his collar.

“What happened, Rafe?” John asked, “Did he jump you?”

“I caught him skulking around the apartment building Lydia owns,” he said, looking at the redhead. “He said he was taking a personal day, and when I confronted him on it, he got angry and accused me of knowing about the Weres. Then he punched me, cuffed me to my car, and threw my phone in the water.” He raised an eyebrow at Jones. “Lucky for me, it wasn’t my only phone.”

“Did you notify your superiors?”

“No,” he said, “because I want some answers. I know something’s been up with Scott and this whole group of you that all suddenly live in each other’s pockets.” He pinned Lydia and Stiles with pointed looks. “I can’t put it off for long, but I also can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“We’re trying to protect you, Dad.” Scott walked in the door with Peter Hale behind him. Stiles’s phone rang as they shut the door and he saw that Deaton was calling.

“It’s Deaton,” he said.

“I called Duke and told him what was happening,” Peter said. “He’s probably told Deaton now.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, putting the phone up to his ear. “My apartment’s a bit crowded at the moment. We were thinking of taking the discussion someplace roomier. Got any suggestions?”

“Why don’t you come here,” he said, mildly. “I think containing the conversation is a good idea. I think it’s safest for everyone that way.”

Sheriff Stilinski put Jones in the back of his cruiser since Rafe’s car was less secure. Both McCalls rode in Rafe’s car and the other three took their own cars to the shelter. It was getting late, and the stable was quiet, but Duke and Deaton were waiting in the barn.

“Put him in the milking room,” the vet suggested, never losing his neutral tone. “The restraints in there are secure.”

“I’ll do it,” Peter said, and John followed with his keys, presumably to release the handcuffs so they could put the agent in Were-safe restraints.

“Who’re you?” Rafe asked, looking at Duke.

“Deucalion Blackwood,” he replied, holding out his hand. He had his sunglasses on and had managed to get a white-tipped cane to complete his ‘blind guy’ look. The FBI agent reached out but froze when the Werewolf shook his hand. “It seems your father has a better memory for faces than others.”

“You were in that cage,” he said, nodding to the comfortably furnished stall. “What’s going on here?” he asked. His question was aimed at his son who lifted his chin. “Scott?”

“Dad, he’s a Werewolf, like me.”

~

Stiles was initially surprised that Duke, Deaton, and even Peter were completely up front with the events of the last few weeks, but he realized that Duke could potentially remove any and all memories of their conversations. Rafe handled the demo portion of the big reveal fairly well, and he and Scott shared a brief hug.

“Does your mother know?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We had to install some heavy-duty restraints in the basement for full moons.” He shrugged. “I’m still learning, but Peter’s helping me.”

“And you’re Peter Hale.” Rafe looked neither pleased, nor angry exactly.

“Yes, and I was in there,” he pointed to his old stall, “when you came through. I’m sorry, I was feral for six years because of a toxin that we’ve been trying to both cure and also find the source of.” Another long discussion began about the plight of the urbanized wolves-which sounded better than _civilized_ -and the murders that had taken place.

“Jesus, this is heavy,” Rafe said, sitting down in the office with a glass of whiskey that Lydia handed him. Stiles wasn’t sure where it came from but didn’t bother to ask. She was usually prepared for everything. “Now, who started the Hale fire?” he asked. “I’m assuming it’s related to this.”

“We don’t know,” Peter said.

“That might not be entirely true,” Lydia said. “You can’t remember anything from the last six years, but part of you was present for it.” She’d told him about their mental connection after her second dream but hadn’t had any luck going back on her own to the place where she and Peter’s memory had met. “I asked what you’d been doing, and you said, ‘hiding from that psychopath’, and ‘I don’t know how she found us’.” Lydia licked her lips. “I think the part of you that was locked away in your feral state might’ve seen something or figured something out.”

“She?” Rafe McCall looked thoughtful. “Theo Raeken’s benefactor is a woman. They’re not related in any way I know of, and on paper she doesn’t seem to exist. He gave us a bogus name, and we haven’t wanted to tip him off yet, but your WCO officer also mentioned a fake company that tried to submit a claim for the Omega and when we followed up on that, there was an IP address in common with the website for that company and where the emails originated. Unfortunately, it led us to a proxy server that’s been taken down.”

“We had an unusual event when a female Alpha was brought to us with the excuse that she was to be bred. The handler was a woman and behaved very strangely when she was here.”

“Plus, she had Kali, another urbanized Were who’d gone feral,” Duke added. Deaton nodded and spoke next.

“She was supposedly affiliated with a reputable breeding farm, but all of my communication was via email, so she might’ve been lying.”

“We need Derek,” Peter said.

“Will the claw thing work on him?” Rafe asked. He looked a little squeamish when he asked. Duke shook his head.

“Unfortunately, not. Derek’s unable to access his own identity and it’s more than memory. Unfortunately, the chemical component blocks my ability to enter his mind.”

“How did Peter come out of it?”

“We’re not certain,” Peter replied. “Our best guess is that it was a perfect storm of factors that led my human mind back to the surface, but my feral mind is still locked away.” He turned to Lydia. “We may need your help sooner rather than later.” He smiled at her, but then both Peter and Duke stiffened and looked at each other. “Gt Derek out,” he said, and shifted. Duke threw his cane aside and shed his jacket.

“Cover your ears,” he said, but before he could roar, Lydia screamed.

~ 


	30. Ooooh, I'm on fire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom Boom, Bang Bang. Snarl! Splutter! FWOOOOSH!

Stiles was halfway to the stall when Lydia screamed, it was loud enough to feel in his bones, but it didn’t make him freeze the way the Weres did for a moment. He swiped his card and opened the door for Derek.

“Come on, Buddy!” He reached for the Alpha’s hand while he was rigid with the banshee’s cry and tugged him out of the stall. “Who is it?” he asked as Derek pushed past him and went straight for Lydia. He was shifted and breathing heavily, but he looked to Peter automatically, as if waiting for instructions.

“Don’t know, but multiple people have surrounded the building, and someone just drove through the woods in a big vehicle and went through the fence,” Duke said. He nodded to Deaton who was at the security panel. “They’re not getting closer, but they must know we know they’re here.” He looked at Lydia who was ghostly white. “Call your gentleman friend,” he said.

“Where are they?” John asked, “My car is closer than the others.”

“You may be able to get to it,” Peter said, and looked at Stiles who was heading towards the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Isaac,” he shouted and a moment later, Duke was on his heels. “Do you have time to bring enough of him back to follow instructions?”

“Yes, but he might be traumatized.”

“He trusts humans, he’ll even trust two of Theo’s friends.” Stiles was already through the clinic and fumbling with his phone. His father would be calling the station, and there would be nothing Heather could do at the other shelter in time to help the remaining Weres they had in the stables. He dialed Chris Argent’s phone number and cursed again when it went to voicemail. “Chris, we’re at the shelter and I think we’re about to get attacked. Someone’s driven through the fence. We’ve got two Feds and my dad here, Lydia, Peter, Duke, Deaton and about eight Weres in the stable, plus Isaac.” He opened Isaac’s door and was pleased to see that the Omega had kept on the loose joggers he’d stolen from Duke. He’d stand out less if he was dressed.

“Come here, Isaac.” Duke reached for the Omega and embraced him. Stiles looked away as he heard a soft, gasp and focused on his call.

“Just in case,” he said, feeling his throat tighten up a little, “We think the person behind the Hale fire was a woman, possibly the same one who sponsored Theo. Be careful, if this goes badly, Erica, Kira, Malia, Jackson and the twins will need a new Alpha.” He paused. “Watch your back, Argent.” He ended the call and pulled up the group chat with all of their little crew on it. Peter had already sent them an SOS, and Melissa McCall had replied that she knew a place they could hide at the hospital, and to meet her there. He put his phone away then and took Isaac’s limp body from Duke. “I’ll carry him,” he said, pulling the slender Were over his shoulders, “you’ll need your hands free.”

Stiles got the clinic door open and saw Deaton inside, throwing a few things into a black bag. He handed Stiles a small, collapsible stun baton that he shoved into his back pocket.

“Go into the barn, Stiles, I’m going to cut the power so they don’t have an advantage.” His voice was soft but firm. “Leave the other Weres to me and focus on yourself and the humans _._ ” His voice got an edge. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’ll be more effective if I don’t have to worry about you trying to help me.”

“Okay.”

“Go.” Deaton disappeared into the hallway and Duke led Stiles back to the barn.

Sheriff Stilinski looked relieved when he saw his son for just a moment before the lights went out. Duke steadied him and Isaac down the stairs. The red emergency lights came on and he nearly ran into Boyd who was standing silently beside his stall.

“It’s okay, big guy.” A massive hand patted Isaac’s shoulder and the big Were whined. “He’s going to be okay, he’s just…”

“It’s alright, Boyd.” Duke’s smooth, rich voice seemed to calm Boyd. “You’re going to go stay with Erica again soon.” His red eyes glowed in the dark. “Stay close to Lydia. Your father and Scott’s are armed, my wolves probably heard Lydia and are likely on the way.” He stepped away from them and howled as Peter joined them. He’d taken off his coat and scarf and wore just a snug t-shirt and jeans. His eyes glowed red, his fangs were out as well as his claws, but his face still looked otherwise human.

“I read Jones,” he said. “It’s a long story, but I set him loose and he’s on our side now that he knows what’s happening.”

“Have they told the FBI we’re surrounded?”

“McCall got Sacramento on the line, I don’t know what he said, but he doesn’t have any kind of radio to tell whoever’s out there that the FBI is on their way.”

“Are any of them shifters? Can they hear us talking?”

“I don't smell any, but on the other side,” he pointed towards the side gate, “there are two heavy trucks with three humans inside.”

“Can you hear them?”

“No. They’re not talking, so we should assume they know about Peter, if not all of us.”

“What’s wrong with Isaac?” Stiles had hoped that Isaac would be mobile.

“I had to bring him back a little more rapidly than planned, and he passed out. It’s a bit like cold re-booting a computer, his mind needs to reload its software, I don’t know how long it will take, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, better he's out of it than panicking."

Stiles was about to ask Peter if he’d reached Chris when he and Duke turned to look towards the hill where the fence had been broken.

“Get down!” Duke shouted and pushed Stiles-and by default Isaac-to the floor.

Stiles managed to get a hand under himself, so his face didn’t get smashed into the floorboards, but Isaac was lying on his head. He was selfishly relieved when there was an explosion that littered all of them with dirt and splinters of wood. Isaac was lifted off him and he felt Peter’s hand on his arm, dragging him out of the center of the aisle. He couldn’t see much, but there was enough flaming wood nearby that he saw Boyd gently lift Isaac into his arms, bridal-style. He was hunched over, and his eyes were wide as he froze in place. Peter covered Stiles’s head and he distantly heard the popping sound of assault rifles.

“Can you get to the car?” Peter was talking to someone. Stiles blinked the smoke and grit from his eyes and saw his father, gun drawn, looking at the hole that had been blown in the barn wall. John must’ve answered because Peter shoved Stiles at him, and his father threw an arm over him and headed towards the supply room. The door was open, and they both jerked back when they saw something flash through the open door.

“Did someone leave?” Stiles asked, coughing.

“Jones. He was going to try to get the shotgun.”

They all saw bright lights bounce through the hole and skittered away as a hummer smashed through the already weakened wall. Peter and Duke flew at the truck and Stiles reached for Lydia’s hand. She crouched down, holding Derek’s other hand. Scott and his father dashed around them, and Scott pointed to the other wall.

“Stay down,” the young Alpha said, covering his father as another explosion, from what Stiles guessed to be a grenade launcher, made a smaller hole in the wall. It was more heavily reinforced, and the other truck didn’t try to ram it. They were trapped, crouched between stalls, which gave them the most barriers between themselves and the bullets that were now peppering the air.

“The other vehicle has three people,” Scott said, pointing to the smaller hole. There’s one still parked outside the fence with just one person in it,” he said, coughing. Boyd seemed to know enough to stay with the human he knew, and kept Isaac hugged to his chest. Stiles was relieved, because he wasn’t sure he could’ve carried the other Omega.

They couldn’t see the hole anymore where they were crouched, but they heard the shots fired and the entrance of several people. Scott shifted and snarled, standing between the humans and the mouth of the narrow aisle where they were huddled. Rafe stood beside him and snapped a fresh clip into his gun. From the front of the building, Stiles heard a familiar snarl and a howl that seemed to come from outside the barn. He hoped it meant that Deaton had gotten the stable Weres out of the building. Then the howl was closer, and Lydia squeezed his hand.

“He’s here,” she whispered.

Rafe started firing, and he felt his dad stand up behind him. From their meager cover, he saw at least half a dozen armed people moving back and forth and Peter tackling two of them from overhead. He dealt with them in a very brutal, and final way, before taking two bullets to the back. Stiles yelled, unable to stop himself, and was pulling himself to his feet. “It’s not Peter,” Lydia said, pulling him back down. “He’ll be okay.”

Stiles didn’t completely understand what Lydia meant, but he was distracted by a bright, orange glow and the smell of a bonfire.

“Jesus!” Rafe backed away with an arm held over his face. Stiles moved forward when Lydia did and watched as a pillar of flames came into view. He blinked and realized it was a man completely engulfed in flames. A man who roared with long fangs and long, hellish claws. The armed intruders fired at Jordan Parrish and he barely flinched as he ran at them, barreling through the remaining four people like a giant, flaming battering ram. The walls were on fire now, and that wasn’t good.

“Follow him,” Lydia said, and the rest obeyed. Peter was getting up and Duke appeared beside them, guiding Boyd along. Stiles released Lydia to help Peter stand. The Alpha got to his feet and pushed Stiles in front of him.

“Derek!” Peter shouted, when his nephew balked at the flaming wall. “Let him go!” he shouted as Lydia reached for the Were. Derek bolted towards the storage room despite Lydia calling after him and disappeared. They didn’t see anyone shooting and once they were through the flaming hole, Stiles saw that Jordan had gone towards where John’s car was parked.

“Sirens,” Duke said, turning around. “Peter, the last car is pulling away.”

“On it,” Peter vanished into the dark and Rafe called out to his partner.

“Craig?” he jogged around the building with the rest of the group straggling behind. “Where are you, Jones?”

“Agent McCall,” Duke said, with a soft warning in his tone, but it was unnecessary. They all saw Craig Jones lying on the ground beside the Sheriff’s car. Rafe knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, he shifted and looked towards the dark trees. “I believe he killed the shooter before succumbing to his injuries.”

“Stupid kid,” McCall said, and Scott placed his hand on his father’s shoulder.

Stiles could hear the sirens in the distance now and pulled out his phone. He shook his head in wonder, it had been less than ten minutes since he’d called Chris Argent. He frowned and looked at his dad.

“When did you call them?” he asked.

“They should’ve been here earlier,” John said, nodding in understanding. “I’m guessing the bridge is blocked again.”

“Is there anyone else around?” Lydia asked Duke.

“I believe Deaton’s taken the Weres towards the preserve,” he replied. “I heard them earlier, but I can’t here them now.” He stiffened and turned as a figure in a dark coat appeared from around the side of the barn.

“Calm yourself, Blackwood.” The voice was feminine, and the hood was pushed back to reveal an Asian woman with short, white hair. “I came to help. I was too far away to get here sooner, but my pack has the shelter Weres and Alan is coming, now.” She looked at the dead agent. “A naked, feral Alpha is running loose in the woods and you all have a lot of dead bodies.” She gave a small, one shoulder shrug. “Peter looks too good to pass for one of them, now.”

“Thanks,” the Alpha in question said, walking back towards the group. In what little light from the fire and the vehicles illuminated the area, Stiles saw that both of his hands were dark up to the wrist. “I always knew you liked me, Alpha.”

“We have little time, and my pack cannot be seen. What can we do?” She ignored Peter’s comment.

“The fire department will take longer than the police, right?” John nodded and Peter looked at Jordan. “Can you do it again?” Jordan had been standing stoically, sooty, and naked. His eyes glowed and flickered like embers.

“Yes.” The voice didn’t sound entirely like Jordan Parrish. “I’ll handle it, go that way.” He pointed down towards the side gate and then there was a slight wavering of the light around him, like a heat wave rippled, and then he was engulfed in flames again.

“Stiles, Lydia?” Deaton was jogging towards them out of the dark. “I’ve got the Weres corralled with the pack, but Derek’s loose.”

“I’m sorry, Alan.” Peter looked regretful. “We’ve got to burn them, there’s no time to cover it. Satomi, can you have your pack bring ours to the enclosure that’s farthest from the barn?” The lights from the police cars were visible in the distance, and the flare of orange flame suddenly lit up the sky.

“It’s just post and beam,” Alan said, looking down at Agent Jones in regret. “It can be replaced.”

The extremely slow response from the Beacon Hills public safety was due to the use of caltrops, three-pronged sharp pieces of metal that had been scattered on the road and had incapacitated several vehicles on more than one road. Peter and Duke slipped away with Isaac, Jordan left as well, but Boyd stayed with the group.

The stable remained mostly intact, but the barn would need to be leveled. The FBI arrived and Sheriff Stilinski handled them. The official story was that Jones and McCall had come up separately to update the employees about Theo Raeken and they’d chosen to meet at the shelter for the update. They stuck mostly to the truth about someone driving through the fence and attacking them. Deaton stayed with the stable Weres in the upper field and Stiles took Boyd to Peter’s apartment where he was reunited with Erica.

Stiles planned to drive to Chris’s house until he got a text message from Peter telling him to go to his father’s house or Melissa McCall’s place. He realized he hadn’t heard about the other car, and what Peter had done with the occupant. The Stilinski home was dark and quiet, which suited Stiles just fine. He took a shower and a few aspirin and collapsed into his old bed, he considered calling Kira to check in with her and Malia, but sleep claimed him.

~

Lydia allowed someone in a uniform to drive her home, and she’d kept her eyes on the woods, looking for signs of Derek. The other pack would be on the lookout for the Were, and they were likely to find him before her caused any trouble. She’d dropped her phone at some point, and she felt strange without it. As soon as the deputy left, she heard movement behind her.

“I took it with me.” Jordan was clean and had fresh clothes on, he held out her phone, which had been wiped clean of dirt and who knew what else. She ignored it and wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Thank you,” she said against his chest. “We were overwhelmed.”

“I know,” he said. “The hound heard you.”

“The hound?”

“It’s what I am, a Hellhound.” He looked grave. “My humvee hit an IED, and we all died.” He waited while she listened. “It offered me a choice. It needed a host, and now we both serve the supernatural world.” He ran a hand over her hair. “I’m allowed to keep living, and I’ve continued to age pretty normally, but there aren’t many things, if anything, that can kill me.”

“You said you were drawn to me.” Lydia leaned into his touch.

“You’ve always been a banshee, but your powers were very weak until your heart stopped.” He looked sad. “I can’t predict things the way you can, but the hound is a protector of the supernatural creatures here, and their secrets. It’s not mindless, but it’s very focused and I can’t always control it.”

“Will it hurt me?”

“No,” Jordan looked down and seemed a little embarrassed. “I guess you could say that the banshee wears the pants in our relationship.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ve been called in, big surprise, because they need extra help at the station.” He raised his eyebrows. “Apparently an FBI agent was killed at a Were shelter tonight.”

“When will you be finished?”

“I have a feeling I’m on for the next twenty-four, and It’s probably a good idea to keep your head down. I heard Stilinski talking, and he said none of you have any idea what’s happening or why.”

“What’s the story?”

“It all happened so fast. It was dark, you heard gunshots and there were explosions.”

“It all happened so fast.”

“You don’t know how the fire started, let forensics deal with that.”

“How hot do you burn?” she asked.

“Hellfire. It’s pretty hot.” He headed for the door. “The twins and Jackson are lying low, Duke’s with them for now. Peter’s going to stay with the others, Stiles is with his father.”

“What about Chris?” She saw his shoulders slump.

“I don’t know. I spoke with him two days ago at his house.” This surprised Lydia who hadn’t known Jordan was keeping such close tabs on them. “He was looking over the map in his office, he said Stiles had a theory he’d be looking into on his own time, but when I left, he was getting ready to go to work.”

“Hopefully he’s just out hunting someplace and out of cell range.”

“Hopefully. I’ll come by if I get out early, if that’s okay?”

“It’s _very_ okay.” She hugged him again and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thanks for…not melting my phone.” Jordan grinned in reply.

“It was close, but I’m getting the hang of it.”

Lydia took a shower after Jordan left and finally felt like she’d gotten rid of the smell of smoke. She put on a soft, cotton nightgown, one that soothed her skin, and rubbed unscented lotion into her elbows, hands, and feet. She took two Xanax before puttering around, closing and locking the kitchen window, setting the alarm, wiping down the countertops and sweeping up the dirt that Jordan had tracked into the kitchen. She cleaned up the crumbs from the loaf of Stiles’s bread that Jordan had apparently demolished and smiled as she thought about the number of calories he burned when he _burned._

Lydia made a mental note to ask Jordan about that as she wiped the dirty fingerprints off the refrigerator handle, but her fatigue stopped her from opening the door to see what else he’d eaten. Her body ached with strain and exhaustion and her head swam like she’d had too much wine. She wondered if the Xanax had really been necessary because of how tired she was, but as she stumbled to the bedroom and pushed back the blanket and sheets, she rubbed her arms and tugged the thin, down throw that she usually kept at the end of her bed over her and closed her eyes.

Lydia pictured Jordan, naked and engulfed in flames as he’d roared his rage at the intruders. He’d extinguished himself enough to pick up her phone, and she smiled at how thoughtful he was with her groggy, relaxed mind. She felt a tightness in her belly when she thought about Derek and how frightened he’d been of the fire.

“Derek,” she whispered. “Please be okay. Please come back.” It was the closest Lydia came to prayer, but it made her feel better to say it out loud. She drifted off and thought she caught a whiff of smoke and petrichor, but then she was asleep and thought no more.


	31. We're all works in progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the end, but definitely a big part of wrapping up.

Stiles and his father spoke very little the next day. They both had a lot on their minds, and neither had the words for it. He knew little to nothing about who had attacked them, and why. But considering the efficiency with which a feral Peter had dispatched two armed men in the past, he guessed that the struggle Duke and Peter had faced the previous night meant the intruders had been loaded for wolf. He had so many questions in his head that he ended up asking none of them. He felt almost like he couldn’t speak. Trauma. Shell shock. Hundred-yard stare. He was surprised when he went back to his apartment and saw a stranger sitting outside his door.

Ambling to his feet, the lanky man stood up and tilted his head, looking Stiles up and down for a moment before his massive blue eyes gave him away.

“Isaac?” he whispered, and the man blinked and flinched a little. Stiles swallowed and went to the door, unlocking it, opening it and ushering the young Omega inside. He wore a blue baseball cap, jeans, an oversized sweater, and a scarf. He locked the door out of habit and caught himself. Isaac didn’t need to be secured in a room like a valuable gem.

“You’re Stiles,” he said, standing awkwardly. When Stiles nodded and gestured at one of the stools, he slid onto it. “You uh…named me Isaac.”

“It was your eyes,” he said. “You were so thin and sick, but you had these big bright eyes. I called you-”

“Eyes.” The Omega finished for him and nodded. He took off the cap and Stiles saw that he had shorter hair, but he still had curls on the top of his head. He fought the urge to rub. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Isaac didn’t apologize for being honest, and Stiles pulled the other stool into the kitchen and sat across from him. He waited, and eventually the Were spoke again. “It’s Daniel,” he said. “My name.”

“I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” he replied and held out his hand, “but you can call me Stiles.” Daniel shook his hand.

“San-Malia and Kira are keeping their new names,” he said. “The twins were already set up with new identities. None of us have our old names anymore.”

“What do you want to be called?” He saw the masked agony on the boy’s face as he fought to excavate himself from his thoughts and answer the question.

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “It feels like a betrayal to them-my family-to not be Daniel anymore.” He rubbed his nose and Stiles realized he was fighting off tears. “The thing is, I already didn’t want to be Daniel.”

“You don’t have to be Isaac, either.”

“I think I want to be Isaac. Everyone smiled at Isaac,” he said, and then the tears came. “I remember everything from when Duke took my humanity. And even before the shelter, people were usually smiling at me, telling me how sweet I was. When I was at the shelter, you guys treated me like family.” He broke down and sobbed with his hand over his face. “Daniel hadn’t been treated like that in years.” Stiles reached out his hand and held it open. Isaac took it and squeezed like he wanted to pull the human closer. He took the hint, walked around and hugged the Were.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you before,” Stiles said, squeezing him.

“I miss them so much, even my dad, and he was…I don’t want to remember it.” He sniffled. “I don’t want to live with that memory.”

“What can I do?” Stiles asked, releasing him to step back.

“I ha-had to get away for a bit.” He took in a shuddering breath. “The twins, the girls, and Duke-” he choked off his words. “I can’t stand the thought of them all looking at me and remembering me like that.”

“You’re not the only one who did things they wish they hadn’t while you were de-humanated.” He bit his lip, debating what to say about Malia and Kira. “You can stay here,” he said, and then thought for a moment. “They have bigger apartments in this complex, how would you feel about sharing a bigger place with me?” He jerked his head at the bedroom. “That leads to a small bedroom, and that’s it. This place is a shoebox.” The Were sniffled and nodded. “I’ll handle the arrangements until we get you some new identity paperwork and we’re sure you’re safe from others who might recognize you.”

When Peter had first come back to his senses, he’d had several plans in the works in case he couldn’t get his old life back. With an additional twenty thousand parked in his bank account to fluff up the appearance of his finances, Stiles had put in an application at the management company where he lived for a three-bedroom luxury unit in one of the other buildings in the complex. It was in his name, because Peter’s identity had still been in legal limbo at the time. Peter had parked an additional six months’ rent in an escrow account to help speed the process along and when he checked, Stiles found it was still there.

“I have some stuff at the building where the twins are,” Isaac said. “Kira bought me some clothes and stuff, but I don’t really need much right now.”

“Are you hungry?” Stiles had a bag of rolls he’d made that were a few days old, but still pretty soft. He made some sandwiches and smiled proudly when Isaac ate all of them. He emailed Peter and got his pledge to help Isaac. The Alpha also told Stiles to keep the money, the rent, and to try to get the penthouse if possible, and that he’d pay extra if he could use the pool. His own building’s facilities were unappealing at the moment. He also said he'd heard from Chris who was stuck out of state with a broken phone and was going to pick him up that night. Stiles took it as permission to decompress and let the wolves handle things. After a walk down to the bodega to pick up some groceries, the men decided to treat themselves to delivery for dinner and some beer.

“Duke saw everything that happened while I was wild,” Isaac said, sipping one of the lime sodas Stiles had picked up with their dinner. “He said he got a lot of info, but he suspects the woman I was with didn’t know about the toxin.”

“Allison.”

“I kinda miss her,” he said, grinning crookedly and scratching the back of his head. “Is that weird?”

“ _I_ miss her sometimes,” Stiles replied, pausing with his taco halfway to his mouth. “Allison’s always been a sweetheart. Her aunt Kate’s a fucking tool, though.”

“She's the one who had Derek, right?” Isaac’s wide blue eyes were curious, and he blinked at Stiles’s expression.

“I’m cutting their dicks off,” he said, dropping the taco and picking up his phone. “Every single dick I see out there is getting removed.” He picked up his keys and went to the cupboard where he took the small Glock he’d liberated from Agent Jones. He’d given up Jones’s official sidearm to McCall, but he’d kept the smaller gun for emergencies. It hadn’t seemed important at the time, but he was cool with it now. “I’m going to go kick some asses, possibly Werewolves, but hopefully the hunters who’re very likely holding Chris Argent hostage at this very moment and who will very likely also be armed with bullets that can make the Werewolves go feral and kill everyone.”

“Dicks too?” Isaac shoved his taco in his mouth and pulled on his sweater. “We’re still cutting off dicks, right?” He was a step behind Stiles walking out the door and the human decided he liked having the tall Were at his back.

“Yep.”

Stiles wanted to go rushing off, blindly, but he’d done it enough times to remember how poorly it had worked, so he needed clues.

“Where have you gone over the last twenty-four hours?”

“Peter’s apartment, Chris Argent’s house, and Lydia’s apartment building.” He scrunched himself in the jeep’s passenger seat.

“My old jeep was smaller,” Stiles said, apologetically. “What did they talk about while you were there, and what did they talk about when they thought you couldn’t hear?” He saw the wide, white grin and remembered the Isaac who stole coffee and molested everyone. “Everyone underestimates Omegas,” he said.

“I’m getting that,” Isaac replied, nodding.

Stiles went to Chris’s house first, Isaac looked up at the house with a nervous expression. “She’s here,” he said, getting out of the car. “Allison.” He looked back at Stiles. “She’s alone, but she’s upset.”

Stiles used the code Chris gave him and walked into the house, calling out to his friend. Allison came down the stairs with a gun and he held up his hands.

“Stiles?” she was surprised and lowered the gun but didn’t put on the safety. She also looked like she’d been crying earlier. “What the fuck is going on?” she asked.

“We’re looking for your father, no one’s heard from him in days,” Stiles said. “I have an idea where he might be, but I need to get into his office.” He saw her eyes flicker up over his shoulder as Isaac walked in behind him. He was wearing the hat, his posture was different, and he was dressed, but Allison had _training._

“Baby?” Her hand holding the gun relaxed and for a moment she looked completely disarmed. “Where did you find him?” she started forward, but Stiles held up a hand.

“Uh, this is…”

“It’s urgent, Allison.” Isaac spoke and Allison’s eyes went round. She backed up, raised the gun and held it on them both with a hand plastered over her mouth. She started to hyperventilate and cry at the same time with her back against the kitchen counter, but her gun hand stayed relatively steady.

“…awkward,” Stiles finished. “Uh, there’s a lot that’s happened since Christmas.” He kept his hands up. “Allison. I swear I’ll give you a full explanation, but please believe me when I say that it has to wait till your father is safe.”

“What the fuck!” Isaac stepped forward slowly and answered Allison's question.

“I was born in Bakersfield, California and I grew up outside of Los Angeles. I graduated from high school in Irvine, and I used to take vacations with my…extended family in Napa valley. I had parents who were teachers, and I had a little brother who was obsessed with trains. His name was Cam. He died when my family was murdered at his birthday party.” His voice shook when he continued. “I’m a Were. I was born that way, and I only have a few members of my pack who survived the massacre. When I lived with you, I didn’t remember who I was, and I didn’t lie to you, Allison. I swear it.” He sniffed, but Stiles didn’t take his eyes off the gun to look at him. “Your dad’s been trying to help me, and others, find out who’s been using a drug that made members of my pack go feral. Now he’s missing, and I’ve survived two attempts to kidnap and kill me. We need to get into your father’s office.”

“K-Kate,” Allison’s face seemed to melt into misery.

“I knew it,” Stiles said, breathing out. “Where is she?”

“I’m not sure,” Allison shook her head as tears streamed down her face. “She’s the only one who hasn’t seemed worried since we realized Dad’s missing. I haven’t talked to her since last night.”

“Let us go up,” Stiles said, and when she nodded, lowering the gun and reached for her phone, he stopped forward, quickly. “No!” He shook his head. “Don’t call anyone.” He took her by the hand and brought her up with him. “We don’t know who’s involved, and whom to trust.” Stiles kept holding her hand as they went to his father’s office. The map was still there, and he went over and looked at it. “Tell me what’s been happening.”

“I talked to my dad on the phone last week, and I know he was at work because we have security cameras at the range. The last time I saw him with my own eyes was three days ago. He got a phone call at work and left really quickly. His code was used at the house that night, but there’s been no sign of him since then.”

Stiles didn’t call Scott’s dad because the agent was on desk duty and was probably having his phone monitored. He called Lydia, who told him about Jordan Parrish’s conversation with Chris several nights earlier, which explained him coming home when he had. Stiles looked at the map and saw a few gold pushpins, a color he hadn’t used previously, in Beacon county. He saw another pushpin and remembered his conversation with Chris.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hearing something in Lydia’s voice. “Any urge to scream?”

“I’m okay. Where are you going?”

“I think I know, but I might be wrong.” He thought for a moment and turned to Isaac with the phone on speaker mode. “Isaac, what do you remember about meeting Derek?”

~

Allison drove one of the ‘Company’ vehicles, a big, heavy truck that could off-road better than Stiles’s jeep. Isaac filled them both in on what happened when Allison had left him in Kate’s care during overseas business trips. When they arrived a few hundred yards from where the Hale house had once stood, Allison had her game face on.

“How did you know?” Isaac asked.

“When I talked to Chris, he said he found both Derek and Peter near here and theorized that they’d found their way back here by instinct. But they didn’t recognize each other in the shelter, so I thought there might be another reason. A feral Were is hard to move and contain, so it occurred to me that maybe they’d never left the area and were being kept close by.”

“Why would my dad know about the underground tunnels?” Allison asked.

“He and Peter Hale were close when they were younger,” Stiles said. “There were photos of him here at picnics and stuff.” Isaac didn’t mention Chris’s Werewolf status, either. “I’m sending a hail Mary,” Stiles said and sent a text to the group chat.

“Why didn’t they tell you?” Allison asked.

“Because I’m a human Omega and they don’t want to put me in danger.”

“You’re the guy who handles ferals unarmed,” Allison’s face screwed up into an incredulous expression. “Why would they think you can’t handle hunters.”

“I know, right?”

“Um, can they hear us?”

“Probably,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Maybe.” He stashed the Glock in his pocket and went with Allison who looked like a walking arsenal. “Be ready for anything.”

“We parked beside his car,” Allison said with a sigh. “I already know Gerard is here.”

Stiles knew he could’ve told Jordan what was happening, and the whole department would’ve ridden to the rescue, but they weren’t quiet enough, and he wouldn’t risk his dad. There was also the issue of Peter and Chris too. He cared for them. He cared for them a lot, but he wasn’t always certain why. Stiles also hadn’t wasted time looking for the other members of the pack to try to get them to come along. They were either there already, or they were left behind for a reason. He had his fail safes, he had left things for others to find, and he and Lydia had talked about what was going to happen. She’d done the math. She understood and had agreed to stay home.

Isaac found the underground entrance to the tunnels under the Hale house. When he’d told Peter and Duke about being taken by Kate to an underground cave to play with Derek while Kate cleaned out his cage and did something that smelled chemical in another room. The entrance was wired, but Allison disarmed it and they walked inside. It smelled wet and gross, but it eventually got warmer and they heard the hum of a generator as they got closer to where the basement would have been.

When Isaac described where Derek had been kept, Peter would have known the whole story. When Stiles thought back to the night of the last barn attack, and Lydia had talked about the fact that feral Peter had been hiding from someone he later knew to be a woman, the Alpha would have guessed exactly who’d been behind the fire and Derek’s imprisonment. If Stiles figured it out, the Hale Pack’s left hand who’d actually survived the events would have figured it out for certain. The fact that he’d deliberately chosen to exclude Stiles from it made the Omega furious.

Dust fell down onto their shoulders when they heard a muffled roar, and Stiles had to commend the Hales for thoroughly sound-proofing their set of underground tunnels. Isaac stopped and whispered to them.

“Three Weres, three humans.” He paused. “I can smell blood.”

Allison took the lead wordlessly and Isaac spotted a trip wire that she carefully disabled before coming to a thick, steel door. Stiles motioned the other two back at that point, and rolled the door sideways on its track when Peter roared again.

“We have company,” Gerard Argent croaked. He was leaning against the wall looking calm and dressed younger than his geriatric ass had any right, in a pair of skinny jeans and a leather jacket. “I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“And I was expecting better booby traps,” he replied. “Are you getting slow or something?” He tilted his head and looked at Chris, Peter, Duke, and his father chained to the wall. “You only got the old guys.”

“I got your strongest fighters,” the old hunter said, with his lip curled up. “You shouldn’t underestimate your superiors.” He didn’t say _elders,_ but Stiles didn’t think it was the best time for quips, so he left it. He’d obviously figured out about Chris judging by the wires running from the crude electrical board to the Weres and taped into their sides. 

“You’re going to make me blush, Gerard,” Peter said with a bloody grin. Beside him Kate argent was sweating heavily and looking hurt, although Stiles didn’t see any blood on her.

“So, there’s one thing I’ve been curious about,” Stiles said, stepping carefully into the room. “Boyd.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you bother to change his name?”

Gerard laughed the laugh of someone who quit smoking far too late to do much good now. He glared at Kate who did a strikingly similar lip curl in reply.

“His work uniform,” Gerard said. “ _Someone_ put him back in his own clothes after he was turned, and dosed. It had his last name embroidered on the lapel. When he was given away to the circus, they didn’t think to call him anything else.” He looked disgusted. “Hunters are good at following directions, but you have to be specific with some of them.” He shrugged, and to his surprise, looked a tiny bit humble. “If we’d known what they do with the creatures, we’d have just shot him.” He lifted his saggy chin. For whatever reason, it was important that Stiles didn’t associate him with the sick perverts who’d abused Boyd.

“Because you have a code, right?”

“They’re animals,” he said with a sneer. “We’ve always killed cleanly and quickly. We only kept the ones we needed, and we were _merciful_ to the rest.” Stiles noticed when Chris, Peter, and Duke all straightened up and looked to their left. _Lydia._

“You didn’t approve of them being chained up and fucked after the tents came down?” Stiles asked, giving him a respectful nod. “It’s honestly far more noble than I’d have expected from you.”

“We’ve been doing this for centuries,” Gerard said. “Protecting humans from all the things that go bump in the night.” His voice rose and fell like he was telling a ghost story. “You wouldn’t believe what’s out there.”

“Oh, I’ve been acquainted with some real monsters recently.” He looked over at Kate. “Does your father know what you used to do with Derek?” He grinned as she flinched perceptibly. “Did he make you do it? Did he want you to get bred?”

“That’s disgusting,” she said, and her posture, hunched over her side, told him someone had cracked a few ribs. “I’d never let one touch me, he was an experiment.” Peter, Chris, and Duke all smirked at the same time. They looked pretty rough, which told Stiles that the generator was likely pumping a lot of juice into them to keep them from healing, or shifting.

“Oh,” he said, lowering his voice. “I think big brother just heard his sister tell a big fat lie.” He raised an eyebrow. “They can hear your heartbeat, you know. Other things too, like Banshee screams from a great distance.”

“We know more about them than you ever will,” Gerard spat.

“Yeah,” Stiles waved away his words. “Don’t care. I’m here for the human.” He nodded to his father. “Let the sheriff go, now. We won’t kill you if you cooperate.” He kept his hands at his sides. “I’m not actually interested in exposing your little scheme because it would cause more problems to make it public.” He looked at Peter, Chris and Duke. “They’ll kill you both eventually, but as long as we get away first, they can have at you.” He shifted forward and nodded to his dad. “You okay?”

“Fine,” John looked tired but also disappointed.

“Don’t give me that look,” Stiles said, taking another step forward. He locked eyes with Peter. “I told you I’d fuck your shit up if he got hurt.” He looked at Kate and gave her a wink. “Pretty sure my girl here did it for me.” He looked at Gerard. “Let the human down, now.”

“You should know that we don’t leave any-”

Stiles shot him through the pocket of his jacket. A moment later, Isaac had Kate by the throat and Allison was standing in the doorway with an assault rifle.

“Get the main switch,” Peter gasped, and nodded to the crude device that had wires running to all three Weres. Kate gurgled, but Isaac didn’t move and Allison turned off the machine.

“Dad, are you okay?” She got started freeing Chris.

“Don’t kill her yet, we need a few answers,” Stiles said, going to his father. He paused and put another bullet in Gerard’s forehead. “Find out about the toxin.” He wiped off the gun and put it back in his pocket.

“We already got that,” Duke said. “It’s down the hall. She’s not the producer, but it’s stored here.”

“Where does it come from?” Stiles asked as he frisked Gerard’s corpse for the keys to the mean-looking manacles on his father’s wrists. Once he got them open, his dad slumped against him. His face was swollen and bruised, and his arm was hanging at a weird angle.

“I’ll be okay,” he grunted as Stiles helped him walk away from the torture wall.

“India,” Peter answered, “I found their shipping information. “I’ll have Satomi’s contacts in Japan deal with the factory.”

“Do you know where they’ve been sending it?”

“It’s only been used in small-scale tests, and most of what’s been manufactured is here, but we’ve got the addresses of the recipients.” Stiles looked at them, sighed and sat his father in a chair as Allison freed the three Weres. She embraced Chris as he fell down onto her. He looked…like a guy who’d been chained to a wall for several days.

“What happened to Kate?” Stiles asked.

“I threw her against a tree,” Peter said cheerfully. “She’s still got some bark in her hair,” he said, gesturing to the human who was very red-faced against the slimy, stone wall. He was shaking off the injuries now that he was free of the electricity.

“She murdered your family, right?”

“Yes,” Peter said. “I can’t remember yet, but it fits.” He smiled. “I can take it from here, Isaac.”

“I’m good,” the Omega said. “Run along, now.”

“Baby,” Allison said, and then looked ashamed. “I mean, Isaac. We’ve got her in custody, we can get evidence and send her to prison.”

“We could put her in something like the circus people put Boyd in each night,” Isaac said. “We could treat her like she treated us.” He gave a squeeze, and Kate turned redder.

“She deserves worse,” Allison said. “But we’re not like her.”

“Napa Valley,” Isaac said to Kate. “Did you shoot the pack there?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “Say yes or no, right now.”

“It wasn’t me,” she rasped.

“Were you there?” They all waited. “Did you see it?” He leaned closer. “Did you see my mother rip my little brother’s head off when she went feral? It was his birthday, and she grabbed him by the neck just after he blew out his candles.” Stiles watched dispassionately when he saw his claws come out. “He thought he’d done something wrong. I could see it in his face, he thought he’d burned someone with the candle wax because it happened the year before.” He leaned close. “Did you see it?”

“No.”

“She’s telling the truth.” Duke spoke quietly. “I’ve got her records for the past few years, and we can find the people responsible, Isaac.” Stiles was a little surprised by Duke’s encouragement of Isaac’s restraint, but maybe Isaac hadn’t killed before.

“She’s responsible, even if she didn’t pull the trigger. It’s probably a good thing your father’s dead,” Isaac said, leaning forward and licking Kate’s mouth. “I’ve seen what you did with those lips.” He dropped her and walked away without another glance, pausing to take Sheriff Stilinski by the arm and help him out of his chair. “Thanks for the piggyback.” Stiles let them leave with Duke trailing behind while Allison put her aunt in restraints. Peter had a cold smile on his face when he frisked her thoroughly and intimately, but he let Chris and Allison walk out with her and waited, leaning against the walls of the dark dungeon.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“Fuck you, Peter.” He raised his eyebrows. “Were you on your way here when you made the calls to the site manager?”

“No, I was at your father’s house.” He had his poker face on, and Stiles couldn’t read it, but the fact that he was using his poker face told him enough. He’d deal with that later, though.

“Where’s Scott and the others?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring them with you,” he said.

“I didn’t have time to go looking for everyone.”

“Duke and I used Alpha commands to get them into restraints. We mailed a key and instructions to you, Agent McCall, and left a set of keys for Melissa in case something happened.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“Who did you kill after the barn fire?”

“You’ll never guess this part,” he said with a grin. “It was like Christmas came again. If you promise to forgive me for trying to keep you safe, I’ll tell you.” He nodded to the dark hallway. “We should probably leave, by the way. I set a bomb on a timer.”

As it turned out, there was a good hour and twenty minutes left on the timer, so they would’ve been fine to chat for a little longer. Peter opted to let the tunnels get caved in rather than diffuse it. “I’ve been smelling the ashes of my dead family for hours now. I want them buried for good.” It was the first time the mask of the left hand slipped and the man who carried the weight of the lives he couldn’t save shone through.

Stiles let Peter take his hand and lead him through the tunnel behind Kate and Allison. He saw Isaac and Chris’s silhouettes with John, helping the man who was leaning on them more heavily than he had leaned on Stiles. He wanted to roll his eyes at his dad for being a dad. Duke was trailing behind them, eyes glowing like lamps in the darkness. They reached the mouth of the tunnel and Peter dropped his hand.

“Peter,” he said, seeing the silhouette of the bunched muscles coiled to spring, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Peter Hale was a thinker, and a planner, but not sadistic. He struck Allison Argent with careful, surgical precision, and knocked her unconscious. She fell flat on her face at the mouth of the tunnel as he grabbed Kate by the hair. Isaac was back in an instant and stood over Allison, facing down Peter, fully shifted.

“Take her to the car,” he said, flashing red eyes at Isaac. When the Omega didn’t move, he said it again. “Take. Chris’s. Daughter. To. The. Car.” He was crouched, vicious and angry, hunched over Kate like he was protecting his claim to vengeance. Isaac breathed through his fangs for a moment before dropping his shift and carefully lifting Allison into his arms. Isaac and Peter each had their priorities, and the younger Were carried the hunter out of the tunnel and into the night. “Go,” he growled at Stiles as he slapped a hand over Kate’s mouth and started dragging her back into the tunnel while she writhed and struggled.

“No, I won’t let you carry this alone.” He turned on the flashlight on his phone and walked ahead of Peter, ignoring the whimpers of Kate argent as she was dragged further underground. He took the gun out of his pocket. “Besides, this gun was registered to Jones. Leave it in her hand.” When they emerged a few minutes later, he slipped into the back of Allison’s SUV beside his dad.

“What’s happening with Gerard’s car?” John asked.

“Leaving it,” he said. Isaac drove because Chris was holding Allison in his lap and Duke…Duke was blind. Stiles watched Chris’s face as they drove away and noted that the hunter didn’t ask about Kate didn’t leave with them. Peter said he had more work to do and stayed behind.

“Drop us off at Casa Stilinski,” Stiles said. “I don’t think Dad’s going to want to face Melissa for a little while.”

“Okay,” Isaac said. “But I have no idea where I am.” Stiles used GPS to give Isaac directions, and gripped the Omega’s shoulder. “I’ll be home shortly. See you there?”

“I’ll make sure Allison gets home okay, and then I’ll drop him off.” He jerked his head at Duke.

Stiles walked his father into the house and sat him at the table. He pulled up Uber and ordered a ride back to his apartment.

“I’m assuming it was Peter, but it could’ve been Duke.” He was looking at his phone and seeing that ‘Spencer P.’ would be picking him up in six minutes. His father gave him the side-eye. “It takes three to four days for an injured Were to change,” he said. “Probably less than twenty-four for a healthy man. It would have worked, unless they murdered you. You’d be cuffed with regular handcuffs, they’d be electrified, and you could break them out when you got stronger.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” His father looked regretful. “I couldn’t risk losing you, and I had to do my best not to leave you, either.”

“It’s what I would’ve done, except you hoarded the pack Alphas.”

“The bite can kill you, you know.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles walked out without another word and waited for five minutes until Spencer P. showed up. He went back to the apartment and called Lydia. “Hey, We’re okay.”

“I was worried.”

“I didn’t hear you scream, but I saw when the Weres did.” He sighed, not sure what to tell her. “It’s actually an awesome warning for when shit’s about to go down.”

“I hope you kicked their asses for leaving us out.” Lydia sounded tired.

“Kate and Gerard did a pretty good job of that already.” He paused. “How’s Derek?”

“He’s fine,” She said, not elaborating. “He doesn’t love my cooking, but he likes your baking.”

“I’ll make some ginger snaps.”

“Do that,” she replied.

Stiles started packing when he got back to his apartment. He felt completely justified in using Peter’s money to fund his and Isaac’s new home. He was tempted to book them some sweet Airbnb house for the week, just because he could, but it still wasn’t in his nature to waste money.

Isaac arrived with a nice leather weekender bag that smelled new. He smiled shyly and accepted a hug from Stiles and unpacked his few belongings.

“Lydia said she’d take me shopping,” the Were said. “Till then I’m a bit spartan.”

“Less stuff to move,” Stiles said with a shrug. “And it’s not like we’re in a palace at the moment, but we should be able to start moving next week.”

“They’re really letting us in that quickly?”

“Having empty apartments loses money, ask Lydia about that sometime.” He smiled. “You can pick the colors if you want to paint, but I’ll kit out the kitchen.” He smiled smugly, “We’re gonna have the pimped-out bachelor pad of Omega studliness,” Stiles said. “Exactly how much studliness you wish to tolerate is fine with me, because I’m a considerate roommate.”

“All the studliness,” Isaac said with a tired smile. “Bring it on.” He frowned. “Is it okay that I like girls and boys?”

“I loves the ladies,” Stiles said, a little overstimulated. “And I may be an Omega, but I’m versatile unless I’m in heat, although you probably don’t need to know that much about my preferences.”

“I’d find out eventually,” he pointed to his ears.

“We can get pizza if you want.”

“Sweet,” Isaac said, and went to the fridge. “Got any more of those Lime sodas?”

“Help yourself.”

Isaac took the love seat and they sat quietly for a half hour waiting for delivery before he started asking Stiles about the FBI and what he was going to tell them.

“I’m leaving the story to Deaton about what happened to the Alphas and wait until after the bodies are identified.” He sipped his own soda. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but did you talk to Duke?”

“He tried, but I shut him down,” Isaac kept his eyes on his soda. “I’m still processing everything, and I really don’t want to hear what he has to say right now.” He fiddled with the label on the bottle. “I’d rather start reaching my own conclusions before he has a chance to manipulate me.”

“What kind of an Alpha was he?”

“A good one. We got close in the last year before…stuff, but he was definitely a manipulator. Not maliciously most of the time but calculating. Never does things just for the sake of doing them.” He frowned. “I’m sorry for what he did to you,” he said, softly.

“After knowing what you all have been through, I can understand how some people end up crossing lines when they get close to their goals, but I can’t see myself forgiving him for not giving me a choice.”

“How can you work with him and talk to him after that?” Isaac rubbed his nose. “And Peter too?”

“Peter wasn’t aware of what he was doing, neither was I. I had a hard time with it until Duke came clean about how it had happened because I couldn’t remember.” He sighed. “He didn’t have to do that, I guess. I worked with him because I had to. He didn’t expect forgiveness, but he didn’t try to ignore it, either.”

“So…you and Allison’s dad in the office, huh?” Isaac looked innocently at the ceiling. “I didn’t say anything to her, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Stiles wanted to blurt out he’d been in heat, but Isaac was newly-presented as an Omega, so he was careful with his words. “We had a…thing, but I broke it off because he wasn’t honest with me.” He sighed, also not wanting Isaac to have a bad impression of his own judgement. “Then, I missed a dose of suppressants because of everything happening at Christmas and Deaton’s niece being born prematurely, and I was at Chris’s house trying to do the ‘we can still work together even though we hooked up a few times’ thing, when I actually went into heat.”

“Does it happen really fast?”

“It varies. But the garbage society feeds you about being desperate for anyone’s cock at the drop of a hat isn’t true. If you don’t feel safe with your partner, you won’t really lose yourself to it, and it doesn’t hit without warning, either.” He rubbed his stomach remembering how his bowels evacuated beforehand and grimaced.

“The heat shits. Yeah, Dude, that sucked.” They both laughed about it.

“Anyway, I was a little anxious because I wasn’t with Chris or Peter, and I didn’t have birth control. Chris didn’t try to trap me there, or anything, but he offered to help. Peter picked up my birth control, I had the choice of two Alphas aaaand I picked both.”

“Peter _and_ Chris?” Isaac looked a little skeeved out.

“Were you interested in guys before you presented?”

“A little, but I didn’t have it totally figured out.”

“You don’t have to pick a label,” Stiles said. “Just like you don’t have to eat the elephant.” He chuckled to himself when he remembered how a grief counselor had talked to him about processing all of the feelings associated with his mother’s death.

“Uh, what?”

“My mom died when I was eight. I saw a counselor who told me a lot of things about the steps of grieving and working through the process. I saw her for a year, and then one day I said I was tired of processing stuff.” He got up and went to the fridge to get a beer. “I was tired of being in this transition period where I felt like my identity was being dictated by other people’s expectations on how I had to handle my grief.”

“You mean like what the latest self-help book says?” Isaac’s bland tone told Stiles he was accustomed to the sentiment.

“Yes. I told her I was sick of only being the grieving son who had people telling me what stage I was allowed to be at and telling me how much more I had to process each feeling. I told her that some days I didn’t want to move forward and take all the steps to acknowledge her and my feelings. Sometimes I just wanted to play video games and feel okay.”

“What did she say?”

“She apologized. She said being handed something like this was like having someone put an elephant on my dinner plate. It’s huge, overwhelming, and for a while, you can’t see anything else. You nibble away at it, but sometimes you get stuck thinking you have to clean your plate before you can get up from the table and move on.” He twisted off the top of the brew and took a sip. “She told me that being a normal kid and playing video games and not actively going through steps didn’t mean I was putting my grieving process on hold, it meant I was still trying to live. When I presented as an Omega a few years later, I was pretty upset, but I took the same approach. I didn’t need to figure out my feelings right away, and suppressants let me live a normal life. Yeah, it meant I still made some mistakes, but I didn’t have the life experience in my early teens to properly label anything I was feeling. What was normal puberty versus what was my Omega instinct.”

“The pack was kinda walking on eggshells around me. I feel like they think I’m gonna go shoot up a mall or something.”

“Your trauma’s legit, and I hope getting a little closure today will help.”

“I really wanted to be the one to do it.”

“I know,” Stiles said, “and Peter wasn’t taking that burden purely out of concern for your soul.” Stiles poked Isaac gently in the sternum. “There’s no way he isn’t really messed up over what happened to his family, and him.” He chewed his lip. “I’ll eventually need to get answers about what happened the night of the barn fire.”

“Thanks for getting me out,” Isaac said.

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Lots of things to wrap up after this, and more answers will come. If you have questions you want answered, post them. I don't want to forget anything.
> 
> Next up...Lydia's unexpected house guest.


	32. Garbage wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Lydia being smart and figuring things out.

Lydia flashback:

The heat started to drag Lydia towards consciousness, but the smell brought her the rest of the way. She woke with a filthy, naked werewolf plastered to her back. She was being spooned about as aggressively as anyone had in the history of spooning, and Derek managed to seem sullen and moody even in body language. He also smelled like he’d been digging in her compost heap.

“Oh, this is so gross,” she croaked and reached for the bottle of water beside her bed with a shaking hand. The arms tightened on her minutely and she felt Derek’s forehead press into the back of her neck, just a little harder. _Five more minutes?_ She carefully swigged from the bottle sideways and re-capped it. She blinked a few times and tried to drag her brain back online. She tried to wrestle one of her arms free but Derek, who’d never been a morning person, gave a soft growl. Lydia froze for a moment. She was completely vulnerable to an alpha werewolf who was in her bed. She thought about Stiles and Peter and considered her options. She didn’t assume Derek’s morning wood was an indicator of intent, but there it was. _Right_ there, in the correct general area if there was intent. She’d really had quite enough of being a pawn to the Werewolves, and pulled herself together.

“Huh,” Derek huffed into her neck, like a defensive little kid. _See? I’m dangerous. You should just let me get my way for once._ When she didn’t immediately move, he gave a tiny push with his hips.

“Not. Happening.” She patted his wrist. “Up,” she said and started to sit up. When he made a combined whining growl, she relented and reached back, to rub the manky head. She recoiled when she felt something slimy in his hair. “Ewww!” She made a sound of disgust and shoved out of his arms. He let her go in order to curl up into a little ball of embarrassment and self-loathing. “What is that?” she reached for the white, sticky strand. “Is this the linguini from lunch two nights ago?” She raised her eyebrows at him, but he pulled her sheets over his head. “You went through my garbage cans you mangy racoon! I thought you were an apex predator.” she snapped at him. “I’m taking a shower, you’ve actually given me nightmare fodder for years to come, Derek.”

Lydia left the bathroom and shower doors open because she didn’t want them broken in a fit of impatience. Derek wouldn’t see the point of a glass door and make the connection with privacy. She smelled him before she saw him because, well, he smelled like a heap of garbage. The shower head had a rain spout as well as a detachable head on a hose for those hard-to-reach Werewolves. She flipped the lever that reduced her much-needed water pressure and sprayed Derek in the face with a momentary blast of the cold water that had been sitting in the hose since the previous night. He yipped and then grumbled, but she felt no sympathy for the guy who crept up on her in the shower.

Lydia shampooed her hair and scrubbed with a loofah until she felt clean while Derek danced around the hose, deciding whether or not it was actually dangerous. Then he lifted it out of its cradle and sprayed his neck with the now-hot water. Lydia took her shampoo bottle and pushed the Were under the main spout. She deftly took the hose from him and ruthlessly attacked the pasta strands in his hair.

“Hurgh,” Derek gurgled when she sprayed his face.

“It’s like you dove into it head-first.” She shook her head. “I’m sure you left me a horrible mess outside, too.” She worked a little shampoo into the thick, black hair and Derek leaned down into her touch. She put the shower head back on its cradle and used both hands to dig her fingers into his hair and scratched his scalp with her nails. He closed his eyes and his broad hands came to rest on her sides. She remembered doing this with Jordan recently, and felt a twinge of guilt. She’d been thinking of Derek as a man with a brain injury for a while now, and it felt different than thinking of him as an animal.

The scrubbing was a little easier when Lydia wasn’t trying to avoid the water the way she had at the barn. Derek obediently lifted his arms to let her wash his pits but shied away because he was ticklish the way he always did. She ran soapy hands down his legs and over his feet and tried not to think about how they were both naked when he held his cheeks apart for her to hose his butt crack and then turned around and let her run a washcloth over his junk. He started to plump up in her hand and she dropped his dick and tapped his chin. “Open.” Derek opened his mouth and she sprayed into the smelly cavern. He spit the first mouthful away from her, and the second, but got her right in the eyes with the third.

Derek grinned at Lydia mischievously when she sputtered at him and put out a hand to steady herself as put her face in the water to wash away the garbage spit. His chest was thickly muscled, and he felt so human, for just a second it felt normal. She felt a flash of heat in her belly and turned quickly to shut off the water. She wrung out her hair and reached for a towel, but Derek’s slippery arms went around her again. He was looking down at the human with a look of surprise and curiosity. He was also fully hard now with his erection jabbed into her stomach.

Lydia’s long conversation with Stiles came back to her. He’d said if he had known for certain that letting Peter knot him would bring him back, he’d have done it, but Peter’s human side was already breaking through with the bites, and Stiles said he’d gotten him to speak when he was sleeping. Derek was different. He wasn’t a Pack Alpha so he couldn’t turn anyone with a bite and build that bond. He also had some hang-ups with women and could potentially be more traumatized if Lydia did this. She lifted the towel and patted the Werewolf’s chest and face dry, and then shoved a handful of the towel into his open mouth.

“You’re catching flies, Derek.” She turned out of his arms and got another towel for herself. She wrapped it around her body and wrapped her hair in a special hair towel for girls with curly hair. She secured the microfiber turban and turned around with ‘ta-da’ hands. “How do you like it?” Derek brought the towel over to her with his mouth; he wanted her to dry him off and play some more. He was clearly going to try to make the most out of his day-pass.

Lydia got dressed while chatting with Derek. She got dressed in front of him and handed him a pair of Jordan’s clean gym shorts which he eyed skeptically. He’d never been hugely fond of the sarong on the rare occasions that he’d been put in one, but he seemed to have fun with the baggy shorts and Lydia caught him checking out the swing of his dick in them. The refrigerator wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. Apparently only some sandwich meat had been nicked because he’d filled up on garbage instead, so she put on dishwashing gloves, checked for her neighbors and went out with a trash bag to pick up the mess from the garbage cans. It wasn’t as terrible as she’d expected, but she was pretty sure the resident racoons had stayed away when they’d smelled Werewolf.

“Jesus!” Lydia yelped when she turned around to see Derek standing behind her as she tied off the last of the bags. “You couldn’t come help me, could you?” She shoed him back inside, moved the cans back into place and returned to the kitchen. She discovered an empty cookie tin on the counter and a smug Werewolf with crumbs in his beard. She took a photo and sent it to Deaton, feeling guilty that the vet might’ve been looking for the Were.

Jordan called and Lydia let it go to voicemail. She didn’t want Derek to hear voices he didn’t know well. She texted him and told him that Derek was at the house with her. Jordan was concerned about her safety and for the first time, she realized she hadn’t been worried in the least since getting out of bed. She promised to be very careful. He agreed to not show up unexpectedly but insisted that she text him throughout the day, so he’d know she was okay.

Deaton called Lydia and told her he’d had to excuse himself from the fire marshals and FBI agents in order to call her.

“I’ll tell them that all Weres are accounted for and if asked, don’t volunteer any details. I’m hoping they won’t be interested enough in them once they know they’re not running loose. I will let them know Derek is with you, if you don’t mind. I think it might actually keep them away from you.”

“Good plan.” Lydia made some spaghetti after hanging up with Deaton that Derek ignored, and she tried not to let it hurt her feelings. She went to her big sectional couch and turned on the television. The Weres had seen plenty of tv before, but they hadn’t really been that interested. She looked through the channel guide and pulled up an episode of _Top Gear_ that featured a Camaro and put the volume on low. Once the roar of the engine growled, Derek landed in her armpit.

“Huh.” He huffed and settled in, stealing the soft blanket and putting his head in the banshee’s lap. She found herself drifting off with a warm Werewolf wrapped around her legs and a tv show she didn’t care for. She scrolled through her texts and was surprised that Kira had texted her a photo of Isaac’s haircut and his ‘Blue Steel’ look for her camera in a pair of jeans and a cardigan she vowed to burn at her earliest convenience. She texted back her approval of the haircut.

_FoxyLady-He left, I think he’s going to go stay with Stiles, but if you see him, can he stay with you? Malia said he’s embarrassed, but he suddenly stopped talking to us._

That was interesting. Lydia replied that Derek was currently at her house, but that Isaac could come if he wanted. She also inquired about his memories, but Kira told her that Duke didn’t share it with them, and Isaac didn’t want to talk. She reached down to stroke Derek’s head and he took it as an invitation to scuttle up and wedge himself at her hip, with his head against her side. She chuckled tiredly and put her head down to catch a quick nap. When she woke up, she was overheated and smothered in wolf again. She blinked and heard the sound of the Camaro’s engine revving and saw that another show had started automatically. Derek was resting his head on her stomach and she was sprawled on her back. The weight on her bladder was making her uncomfortable and she shifted to the side. It was getting dark out, and she opted to make dinner.

“I’ve got to pee, Hon. Let me up,” she mumbled, trying to roll out from under Derek’s weight. He grunted and rolled to the side, letting her slip off the couch.

“’Kay,” he mumbled and rolled into the warm spot she’d left.

Lydia was several steps towards the bathroom when she realized what had happened. She shut herself in the bathroom and tried not to let her heartbeat get too fast. Stiles had witnessed more than one emergence of Peter’s mind breaking through before he’d bitten her and Scott. Both incidents had followed a highly-stressful and violent event. Both incidents had involved some intimate contact with a person Peter was close to, but the first had involved hearing something from his past. Peter had responded to his own name, and to hearing his sister’s name. Later on, Stiles had been sleeping beside him and he’d spoken the way Derek had.

Lydia took care of things in the bathroom and returned to the living room after meditating and getting herself calm. Derek was still napping when she returned to the living room and she looked at the television with the sounds of the Camaro and pulled up an alternative rock station playlist. She turned it on while she started washing dishes. She hummed along to one of the songs and let her mind slip into the space where she let go of her assumptions and allowed her instincts to take over. She pictured Derek as Stiles or Scott-no-she pictured him as her husband. She let her mind float there, an active fantasy of married life. Derek had come back from a run and they’d fallen asleep while he was watching one of his car shows.

Lydia pulled up the list Stiles had made of the things Derek had liked, and she found what she was looking for under foods. Mac and cheese with spicy sausage. Because of their close relationship with the butchers of Beacon Hills, her chest freezer had some andouille. She pulled some out and started defrosting it in the microwave while she hunted for cheese and pasta. She filled a pot with water and put the heat under it while she mixed up a roux to make her white sauce. She didn’t have a lot of parmesan cheese, but she had cheddar and Monterey jack, so she dumped them in a bowl together.

Lydia scored the sliced sausage and poached it lightly in hot water to draw out some of the fat-she hated an oily mac and cheese-and kept an eye on Derek. When she started frying it, in the pan, he began to stir on the couch. She checked her phone and saw that she had a reply from Deaton. She read it and went to get her tablet from the coffee table in order to follow his instructions.

“It’ll be about five more minutes,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” She kept her tone light and noticed that he’d pulled the blanket back over himself. She focused on the food and took out the colander to drain the pasta while she added the cream cheese to thicken the sauce. She sent a text to Jordan reassuring him that she was okay. She turned down the heat under the pasta and took out plates and silverware to set the table. She drained the pasta, returned it to the pan to steam away the extra water and then stirred the sauce and tasted it. She added a touch of smoked paprika and onion powder, just for the tang.

The sausage smelled pretty great, and Lydia found herself talking out loud as she sliced it. “I’ll leave it on the side for now, but you can mix it in,” she said, without thinking, and heard a grunt for a reply. It wasn’t that different from how most tired guys communicated. She mixed the sauce into the pasta and plated it along with the sliced sausage on a separate platter. “You want a beer?” She knew she was probably projecting human behavior onto the Were, but maybe it had been Stiles’s unconscious treatment of Peter-forgetting he wasn’t a man-that had reached his deeper psyche. She got another grunt, which she couldn’t help scraping up hope for. She shut the blackout drapes over the bigger picture window, thinking it might help keep the Werewolf in a sleepier state.

Lydia picked up her own fork, sat down and took the foil off the plate of sausage. She heard another grunt from the sofa and took a slow breath.

“It’s ready,” she said and twisted the cap off the beer bottle she placed beside his plate.

“Mmmmh,” Derek groaned, and she saw him stand up from the couch and stretch, scratching his chest.

“I talked to your uncle a little while ago,” she continued, spooning the pasta onto her plate. “I didn’t have much parmesan, but I used the cream cheese like he said.” She kept up the chatter. “Andouille’s from Carter’s, I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s supposed to be pretty spicy.” She kept her eyes on the table as Derek slumped into the chair across from her and picked up the fork. She reached over and spooned pasta onto his dish and then leaned over with the plate of sausage to push some onto the plate beside the cheesy pasta. “Say when.”

“That’s good,” he said with a yawn.

Lydia sat down and picked up her own beer. She contemplated it for a moment and handed it to Derek and he wordlessly twisted off the cap and handed it back. He took a bite of the macaroni and sucked in air around the bite, like it was too hot and grabbed for the beer. She’d taken an extra Xanax to keep her anxiety down, and took a bite of the pasta, grunting and doing the same ‘ha-ha’ hot food navigation. Derek smiled across from her without looking up, and she saw that his gaze was somewhat unfocused. The answer popped into her head. _Sleepwalking._

Lydia started talking out loud, knowing that Deaton would be able to hear her from where her tablet was positioned. She’d opened a skype window and glanced over to where she could see the screen.

“Parasomnia’s an interesting phenomenon,” she said, casually. “People have driven cars, walked around, shopped online, and even had sex and committed violent crimes while asleep.”

“Hmm,” Derek nodded and kept eating. He paused and drank some of the beer and took a bite of the sausage. “It’s good,” he said, and she smiled. He wasn’t really listening, just going through the motions.

“It would explain a lot, especially about how your uncle can’t remember anything. Most people don’t remember what they do when they sleepwalk.” She ate some more and chugged her beer to cool her mouth from the spicy sausage. “I need some milk.” She got up and poured herself a glass. Deaton was nodding and motioned for her to keep doing what she was doing. “You guys tend to be very alert to changes in the environment, but after something shakes you up, I think there’s an increase in some chemicals in your brain.” She poured a glass of milk and brought it over to the table.

“Thank you,” Derek said and reached for the glass, taking it from her. Lydia shared a grin with the tablet and sat back down. He was on autopilot, but from a much older routine. She ate while trying to think of things to say, but eventually his movements became clumsy again, and he dropped his fork, which clattered loudly against the ceramic plate. He jumped back and rubbed his forearm across his eyes and walked backwards until he bumped the couch. He hunched over and blinked sleepily at Lydia.

“Derek?” He rubbed his crotch uncomfortably, and she showed him to the bathroom. He peed in the shower, which was better than the floor, but he at least aimed for the drain. “Thwarted by a full bladder,” she said to Deaton who waved his phone at the screen. She picked up her phone which was vibrating.

“I think you’re right,” Deaton sounded almost giddy. “Humans with parasomnia are often reacting to stress or other emotional stimuli when they do things like binge eat or get violent during an episode.”

“I wonder if the toxin is something that stops them from being completely awake, or some form of that.” Lydia watched Derek slink around the room, eyeing the sausage, and when he saw her raise an eyebrow at him, he dropped his chin and hunched his shoulders forward. “Oh, he’s going for the andouille.” She ended the call and bolted forward, losing her mind and foolishly attempting to fight a Were for a plate of meat.

“Hah!” Derek deftly ran past the plate and scooped Lydia up with one arm around her waist, securing her against his side so he could turn and use his other arm to calmly spear pieces of sausage from the plate and eat them, slowly while giving her looks of smug satisfaction. She tried to reach around him, but she got nowhere, and simply dangled.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eventually Stiles called and Lydia watched Derek pace around the house as she listened to her friend’s explanation of what he believed was happening. She was angry too and told him what Jordan had said about his conversation with Chris. Derek eyed the phone with a sour look. And Stiles asked her if she was okay. She reassured him and agreed with his plan. She hung up and he caught some of her nerves and crawled up beside her, shyly.

“Don’t worry, Peter’s probably going to kill the bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intensity ratchets up a bit and we find out what Peter was doing.


	33. All cards on the table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has some answers, and pretends to be a creeper.

Stiles carefully and discreetly checked in with everyone, making sure they were all alive and well. He needed to avoid processing what happened with Kate and Gerard or his guilt would show when the FBI questioned him. Although he was upset with his dad, he went back to the house that evening to meet the FBI. They’d all agreed to plead ignorance to most of what had happened that night, but since the FBI was looking at a lot of things, they had to be ready for any questions. They kept it simple: Jones hadn’t told him why he’d wanted to meet all of them at the shelter and he didn’t have the chance.

The agents had expressed some doubt about the story, but Stiles got angry at that point, and asked why they hadn’t caught whoever had tried to kill him and his friends before their second attempt on his life. It didn’t back them down, but they changed the subject.

“Where did you get the money?” Agent Wright asked.

“Can you be specific?”

“You had a significant sum of money transferred into your account following the first break-in. Then some more put into escrow along with an application for a luxury apartment.”

“Yes.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Peter Hale.” The answer surprised Stiles because it came from his dad. “For the record, I’m not happy with the relationship.” He fixed Stiles with a cold look.

“I guess it’s a good thing you don’t get to decide what makes me happy.” Family tension made everyone uncomfortable, even FBI agents.

“He’s actually coming to talk to me today,” John continued. “I found out and despite my son being an adult, I wanted to know why he was _paying_ Stiles if their relationship was completely on the level.” He looked at Agent Cleeves, who was the younger of the two. “No matter how old he gets, I’m still gonna look out for him.” Cleeves smiled, she was a little younger than John, and Stiles wondered if his father was good enough at controlling his senses to pick up on a little something from the woman.

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t hear the explanation, yet.” They all looked at Stiles who blushed hotly. A knock on the kitchen door interrupted them, and John chuckled. “ _That_ was suspiciously good timing.” He stood up, looked through the kitchen and laughed. “He’s early.”

As soon as the money was mentioned, John had gone from protective to bitter and it worked to make him seem emotional enough that his answers would be honest. Peter walked in carrying his cane, and handled it smoothly, like he was used to walking with it. He looked surprised to see the agents and shook hands with them both.

“I can come back, Stiles.” His blue eyes were focused on the Omega with a possessive glint. “If that’s what you want.”

“No, you can come in.”

“Would you mind clearing up a few things, Mr. Hale?”

“Certainly.”

Peter was dressed impeccably, and very expensively. He had a tailored blazer, fitted, designer jeans that must’ve been carefully chosen to show off his ass and his package. When asked, Peter gave his story:

“I was injured,” he said. “I’ve been going through rehab overseas, and I didn’t want anyone to know; I abhor the idea of being pitied. I got well enough to return and came back quietly. I wanted to keep a low profile, but after I heard about the break-in, I went to see Alan Deaton. He’d been a friend of my sister’s before she died, and I wanted to talk to him about donating some money to the shelter in her memory.” He nodded at Stiles. “I met Stiles and I was…impressed.” He smiled widely, showing off his perfect smile. “I’m used to getting what I want, and pursued Stiles over the holidays.” He looked at John. “I’m a man who likes my privacy, and I’m only here to help Stiles.”

“We’re investigating the murder of a federal agent.”

“Oh, now you're interested?” His voice chilled. “Suddenly you care about this case and everyone else is supposed to jump up and volunteer irrelevant, personal information? You didn't care about it because it was about animal rights, and you think you're dealing with a bunch of angry vegans instead of seeing it as a carefully planned larceny that involves corrupt government workers.” He lifted his chin. “Like I was saying, I like my privacy, and I offered to let Stiles move in with me. He didn’t like the power imbalance, so I let him put in the application and put the money in his hands.”

“That’s a lot of money to hand over to a kid you like,” Cleeves said, and shot a quick glance at John, whose lip twitched up in a smirk.

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Peter threw the comment off as casually as his shrug. “It’s worth it if Stiles feels safe, and the escrow account is being set up so that if Stiles kicks me out, his rent will still be paid for six months.”

“And you expect me to believe you won’t be upset if that happens?”

“I expect you to believe that Stiles is worth treating well, and that he’s capable of telling me to get lost if he doesn’t want to be with me.” He glanced at agent Cleeves. “You clearly don't know just how much money I have, which is fine by me, but my inheritance from my parents was well into nine figures, and I've been investing for years.”

“I think the agents are wondering why you’d invest so much in me when you could have anyone,” Stiles said, looking at him, shyly, as if he believed Peter's ostentatious presentation of 'Overcompensating man with money' would make him attractive to everyone.

“You’re a rare treasure, Stiles.” Peter looked at him beatifically, “for so many reasons, and not just because you’re an Omega.”

Stiles looked shocked and stood angrily when the two agents sat up sharply. John also stood up and put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“That’s nobody’s business, Hale.” The Sheriff's face reddened with anger. "Stiles doesn't need people knowing about his status." Stiles pushed off his father’s hand and stomped up the stairs to his room and waited. Several minutes later, Peter knocked on his door.

“The agents have left.”

“Did it work?” Stiles asked.

“I think it was perfect,” the Alpha smiled fondly. “You’re truly devious.”

The money was too big of a red flag, too close to the break-ins to not be suspicious. Deaton had shot down Stiles’s suggestion that he’d say he made a deal to sell Alpha essence behind Deaton’s back, because he could’ve faced criminal charges for it. Peter had pulled off a wealthy man with a fetish. It was depressing how much more easily they'd buy the appearance of a rich guy with a fetish wanting a kept Omega over Peter's impassioned speech about valuing the younger man.

“How’s Chris?”

“His father pumped him full of more wolfsbane than me or Duke. Chris was the least powerful out of all of us, but his father was absolutely terrified of him. He tried to hide it, but it was like Chris was his worst nightmare.”

“I’m sure he was,” The Omega said and nodded to his father who poked his head in. “You get Cleeves’s number?”

“She has my card,” he replied, a little smug. Stiles was pretty sure it was the Werewolf in him. “She doesn’t need to know about Melissa,” he said and frowned. “Melissa doesn’t need to know she was flirting with me, either, right?”

“She know about your _other_ secret?”

“She will.” The wolfish grin came out again.

“Down boy,” Peter said and John left them alone.

“It makes sense that Gerard would fear Chris over anything else. Chris knew everything about being a hunter, all of their secrets. He would’ve been the perfect spy inside the organization.”

“That’s probably why Gerard hadn’t told anyone. He’d be too afraid of getting the blame for not figuring it out. They planned to stage it so it looked like Chris was killed on a hunt. Gerard was going to take credit for killing Duke and me, that’s what they were fighting about. Kate didn’t want her father to take all the glory, since she’d done most of the work. ”

“Typical.” He was silent for another moment as he thought back to the tunnel. “What did you pick up from her?”

“It filled in most of the blanks from the night the barn blew up, but I still don't know how Gerard found out about Chris being a Werewolf.” Stiles flinched when he said it, since he'd killed Gerard before Peter could get inside his head. "I have no objections to your actions, but what made you pull the trigger right then?" 

"I once ducked my girlfriend's calls for a week in high school because I knew she was going to break up with me. I'd just had a feeling, and told myself that she was still my girlfriend, and we were okay and in love until I heard it from her. My avoidance of the news changed nothing about the state of our relationship, or about us, but it just wasn't over for me until I heard it. Somehow I fooled myself into thinking I could somehow delay the end of the relationship until I observed it firsthand." He looked up and caught the bright, blue gaze. "Like Schrodinger's cat, you know?"

"The paradox? Yes. It's both alive and dead until we observe it." He tilted his head. "What did you see?"

"You all froze. You went rigid like you did when Lydia screamed, so I knew someone was going to die. Since you were all tied up, and their attention was on me, I felt like Lydia was probably screaming for me. So I sent Gerard in my place." he shook his head when Peter looked like he was about to speak. "I know it's like whistling in the dark."

"Don't give it another thought, Darling. Your father was getting stronger, and Gerard smelled like the anxiety was going to induce a heart attack at any moment. Your timing may have saved us from Kate's panic if he collapsed."

Stiles stared at Peter for a moment and decided to take his advice. He had other questions, though.

"Who did you kill the night of the barn fire?"

"You'll love this, Sweetheart."

Kate Argent had been a sneak from a young age. She’d always been an eavesdropper, an opportunist, and always eager to take any advantage to look good to her father. She’d learned about Urbanized wolves from listening to her mother speaking with other matriarchs, and when she’d realized Chris was keeping his friendship with the Hales a secret, she guessed that they were Werewolves.

“She thought he was a glory hound like her. She thought he was plotting to capture an entire pack and she burned us just to spite him.” Peter’s voice didn’t waver, but his fingers flexed. “She didn’t get all of us and was too afraid of me to take credit for the kills.” He smiled a little, eye still closed. “Derek had been using what he knew about the fire to track down the arsonists. He’d apparently gotten the information from one of them, but the guy squealed to Kate, and Kate went after Derek.”

“He ended up held by her for years, and you ended up found by Chris and taken to Deaton.”

“Kate wanted to know how trainable a feral Were could be and kept him for years. Allison acquired Isaac from a matriarch who used him to lure in wild Weres. Kate found out, because she snooped into everyone’s business, she cozied up to Allison and offered to help her hide Isaac and look after him when she was out of town. She took him to the Hale house and put him in with Derek. She wanted to see if Derek would kill him, but however sick it was, he’d bonded to Kate, and it anchored him. He didn’t have the rage he’d had when he’d initially been dosed. He was mostly lonely and welcomed Isaac. Kate eventually treated Isaac like a reward to get good behavior out of Derek.”

“How did he escape?”

“She overestimated her control. She lost him when she was trying to move him.” He grinned. “Jordan Parrish spotted him and called the sheriff and Chris Argent. Chris recognized him and knew it had to be kept quiet, so he and your father sneaked him into the shelter and told Kate he’d been killed.”

“All that time he was under the Hale house?” Stiles rubbed his face with his hand and kicked off his shoes, lying down beside Peter, who pulled him against his chest. “That must’ve been terrible.”

“He wasn’t there the whole time. Off and on, she moved him every few months, which is good, because now I know where to find the hunters who hunt us.”

“What about the toxin?”

“Julia Bacari was her name, but Scott met her as Jennifer Blake. She discovered the compound while trying to find something that would force Weres to shift so they could be identified if they were masquerading as human.” He tapped his lips with a claw. “She was responsible for Boyd. He was part of a demonstration for Kate and Gerard, and they told the truth when they said they didn’t think he’d end up where he did. She had a wild Pack Alpha bite him, trying to figure out what would happen, and the results were far too mild since he didn’t have the instincts of a wolf. Kate and Gerard got rid of him and he unintentionally ended up with the circus.”

“So, she went after Kali?”

“And Ennis. Her isolated tests hadn’t been on an unban Pack Alpha until them. The Mexican hunters were the ones who hunted Duke’s pack. They followed them to Napa Valley and attacked the party. They never did it with humans around, they actually consider themselves followers of the code, and don’t want humans harmed.”

“Julia was the one at the fire?”

“She was also the one behind Theo’s infiltration and the first break-in.” Peter reached for Stiles when the younger man sat on the narrow bed beside him and rested his palm against the Omega’s side, stroking the warm skin under the edge of his shirt with a thumb. “Ennis was well-known enough by size alone that she figured out where he was. She sent Theo in to get intel. When he couldn’t find a weakness in security, they organized the break-in.”

“What was the goal?”

“To steal Isaac, she could’ve sold him to fund her research, but she also wanted them to figure out a way in and out of the Alpha barn.” Peter sighed. “Except some little shit showed up and ruined the plan instead of getting drunk and sleeping at his friend’s house.”

“Inconsiderate jerk.” He leaned into Peter’s touch and closed his eyes, feeling a bit of the fatigue from the last few days weighing on him. “How much toxin is there?”

“Not much, the ingredients are too rare and difficult to keep in a volatile state, which is what’s necessary for it to be effective. The final attack was organized by Kate and Gerard, but Julia dropped enough breadcrumbs to get them interested in the shelter.”

“What’s Allison going to do?”

“Allison’s not cut out for this lie.” He nuzzled Stiles’s neck in an affectionate, but not _particularly_ sexual way. “It’s too much, it’s too heavy for her.”

“You took the memories,” Stiles sighed. “How does that work? Are people left gaps in their memories like Lydia and me?”

“Taking older memories is often less disruptive than fresh ones, because our sense of time stretches out. In Allison’s case, she had little bump on the head which explained her retrograde amnesia.”

“What does she think happened?”

“He injured himself and broke his phone while out in the woods investigating a Were sighting. She found him but slipped and fell before they made it back to the car. He was pumped full of enough wolfsbane by Gerard that he was pretty banged up when he brought her to the hospital.”

“She’ll believe it?”

“Chris will help, and I might’ve had a word with a certain nurse who will stress the retrograde amnesia part.”

“Did you take everything? What about Isaac?”

“She thinks she lost him only a little while after she took him in, and her memory of his unshifted face is less clear.”

“What about the people who know some Weres can talk?”

“We’re working on that.”

Stiles fell asleep and woke up alone. His father left a carefully worded note indicating his plan to work with Peter, Scott and Erica. He also said that Malia was temporarily moving into his room and to make sure his sheets were _fresh_.

Stiles snickered to himself and did as asked. When Malia arrived, she greeted him affectionately and asked if he was going to be her new stepfather. He smacked her ass and said she could call him Daddy anytime. They had pizza and played video games until late in the evening; and eventually Malia asked about Isaac.

“How’s he doing?”

“Hard to say, I didn’t know him before.” He put away the controllers and opened a couple of his dad’s beers and handed her one. “How are you?”

“Okay, I guess. Its weird that I can’t get my life back, but Peter seems like he can get me a better one on paper.” She sipped the beer, wrinkled her nose and handed it to Stiles. “Too bitter.”

“What kind of life is he building for you?”

“I should’ve had my degree by now. There’s no reason I wouldn’t have earned it if those assholes hadn’t murdered everyone.”

“I’ve no moral objections,” Stiles said. “Unless you were a D-student at community college, and he gave you a Harvard Honors degree, but mostly because I wouldn’t want you to be associated with some of the Harvard grads out there.”

“He’s getting me a degree from a different university in a similar field. Since the Calaveras knew a lot about us, they might try to find us based on our chosen fields. Kira was going to be a social worker, but she’s afraid to do that now.”

“That sucks.”

“I feel the worst for Isaac. It always seemed like he had the worst luck, and always got the shaft,” she let her head fall back on the couch cushion, “and if there’s anyone I wouldn’t have wished an Omega status on, it’s him.” She placed her hand on Stiles’s knee. “He got bullied enough, and people don’t treat Omegas well, I know I don’t have to tell you this.” Her big brown eyes regarded him, earnestly. “His dad was a jerk, and Isaac could never do anything right as far as he was concerned, I’m just afraid that what happened during his wild time will be too much for him.”

“How so?”

“Kira and I had some pretty embarrassing moments, ourselves, but nobody’s giving us shit about it because we’re all Weres and we all understand why it happened. We all feel bad for Isaac because his experiences at the picnic were far worse than what anyone else has ever had to face. Following that up with presenting in a dynamic that people see as inferior, or one they objectify just adds another layer of stress on his already fragile self-image.” Stiles saw a tear slip out of her eye and roll down her cheek. “Isaac said he remembered Duke telling you that he…partnered him during his heat out of pity, and then he said what Duke did to get Peter back.”

Stiles stiffened, he’d known that Duke’s method of bringing Peter back was known, but he hated the thought of people thinking about that experience when they looked at him. “Our bond was starting to come back, but now it’s getting faint again. It’s not just Isaac pulling away from us. I think he’s really losing it.”

“I’ll head home and hang with him,” Stiles said, kissing Malia’s forehead and chugging his beer. Malia drove him back to the apartment and he let her take the jeep back to his dad’s place. When he got home, the place was quiet, but there were several shopping bags around the living room.

“I’m not giving up the pillows,” Isaac mumbled when Stiles went into the bedroom.

“Fiiiiine!” Stiles brought in extras from the couch and scooted in on the other side of the bed. It took up almost all of the comically small bedroom. “But if you’re a cuddler, I should warn you that I’m a very aggressive little spoon.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Isaac said, and the lump under the covers shrugged. “I’ve never slept beside someone when I’ve had all my faculties.”

“I’m honored to be your first, but technically you’re my guest-”

“More like refugee.”

“Tomato tomah-to. Either way, I’ll take the couch if you want to save this experience for someone else.”

“No one else I’d want to sleep with,” Isaac mumbled.

“Okay, so I know you might not have been in your most observant state, but can you tell me something?” Stiles propped himself up on an elbow. “Does Allison sleep naked?” He heard Isaac snort. “She seems the type to either sleep in the raw with a crossbow, or the sweats and socks kind of girl.”

“T-shirt and panties,” Isaac said. “No crossbow, but she had these wicked ring daggers in her bedside table.”

“When you say panties,” Stiles began.

“Big-assed granny panties, man. Like the least sexy panties you can think of.” He laughed with Stiles. “Don’t ever tell anyone I said this, but you must know how much she loves tacos, right?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s lactose intolerant now, but she still ate them. Oh my God, her whole bedroom is like a Dutch oven when she eats sour cream.”

“Oh my God, did you have to sleep in there?”

“She farted in her sleep this one time. It was so bad I remember clawing at the door trying to get out. I almost woke the neighbors howling. When she figured it out, she kept apologizing to me, but I wouldn’t come out of the coat closet.” Stiles was folded in half with his knees up to his chest and choking with mirth.

“I can’t look her in the eye ever again,” he gasped.

“At least she went to her doctor after that and started taking something for it.” Isaac shrugged.

“Lydia got you all kitted out today?”

“Maaaan, I had ten guys staring daggers at me when she took me into one of the fitting rooms to show me which outfits to put together.”

“Nice!”

“I was a perfect gentleman,” he said. “Besides, I already touched her boobs a bunch of times.”

“And Tracy’s, and Malia’s and Kira’s and even Rhonda got groped.” He swatted Isaac’s shoulder. “You’re a bad, bad man, I don’t know if I trust you in my bed.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, suddenly serious.

“I know, which is why I’m here, trusting you in my sexy red spiderman boxer-briefs.”

“Can I ask you something? Feel free to tell me to fuck off.”

“Yes.”

“Did you feel okay with sex after what happened at Christmas?”

“Not right away,” Stiles replied. “We were in the middle of a crisis when it happened, and I’m used to a crisis. You go into triage mode. Wat _has_ to happen, and what can wait? I _had_ to keep Peter safe. I _had_ to stay there and keep the shelter running and keep the other Weres safe, and I put aside my own feelings in order to focus on that. I was protective of the Peter I’d known, even thought he was the tip of the iceberg, and his recovery was something I’d wanted.”

“You and Peter were intimate later.”

“Yes, and I’m not sure I was ready for that, but his body was physically bonded with me, and I was accustomed to giving him relief. It actually made me feel less guilty that he wanted me to do it when he could actually consent. I’m not saying our dynamic was the healthiest to start a physical relationship, but we also had a shared experience, or trauma that bound us together.”

“Do you think you’ll continue seeing him?”

“I’ve no objection to it, but he may need to travel. I think he still has a niece out there, plus we’re hopefully going to get Derek back too.”

“Yeah, I hope Lydia can handle him.”

“I hope you didn’t say that to her.”

“Dude, I’m not stupid.”

~

Lydia went to the bungalow to see Jordan when she finished shopping. He met her with a big hug and held her tightly. She breathed him in and squeezed back.

“You okay?”

“I took Isaac shopping, but Deaton’s waiting with Derek at my house. Derek wasn;t comfortable at the shelter, so he’ll stay with me for now.”

“Let me know if you feel unsafe, I can set something up so he’s close to you, but secure at night, if you want.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll take you up on it, but for now, he’s making progress and I want to try and see that through.”

Hugging progressed so quickly into kissing that Lydia barely noticed. Her legs were around Jordan’s waist and they were falling onto his old bed together while they fumbled for clothes and a condom. He filled her, thick and hard, and she rocked with him, letting go of the control she had to always keep over herself around everyone else. She came fast, which surprised her because usually she needed a little more stimulation, but she felt so relaxed as Jordan found his own completion that she just kissed him gratefully. She used his shower, but it was too small for two people to be comfortable, so she settled for a few kisses afterwards.

“I’m sorry I have to run,” she said, slipping on her shoes. “I don’t know how Derek will react-”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Derek should be a priority, as long as you’re safe.” He kissed the tip of her nose and waved to her as she drove away.

Lydia was smiling when she pulled into her garage and hoped that the house wasn’t a disaster. She was pleased to see very little mess in the kitchen and Deaton sitting on the couch with Derek watching football.

“Any trouble?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.” Deaton waited for Derek to greet Lydia with shy touches until she hugged him. He scented her shamelessly then and touched her wet hair with a confused look.

“Thanks, sorry I took so long.”

“It’s my job,” Deaton said. “Peter stopped by just after you left this morning. He went into Derek’s mind, and although he couldn’t retrieve any memories, he did plant the compulsion to use the toilet, so I’m calling it a win.” He smiled. “Derek’s a different Were when he’s in a home like this. Or maybe it’s because he’s here with you.”

“It scares me after hearing from Peter how… _she_ trained him. If he associates us, I don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

“Whether or not he associates women with routine, you’ve been kind to him.” Deaton squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “I’ve given him a very mild sedative, one that will hopefully help him sleep a little more deeply. Do you have a safe space in case he gets ornery?”

“Yes, the closet’s lined with mountain ash. The bedroom windows too. He probably only got in because the kitchen had newer walls after a tree fell on it.”

“Keep texting Jordan. I’m going to meet with Peter tonight and we’re going to go over the files he brought from the tunnels. I have a friend trying to hack a laptop Peter…procured from the maker of the toxin and we’ll see what we can make of it.”

“Okay, let me know what happens.”

“Will do.”

Lydia didn’t need to shower, so she ignored Derek’s hopeful glances at it, but continued watching football with him curled up against her. He dozed off around midnight and didn’t stir when she slipped out from under him. She covered him with a blanket and changed into pajamas before slipping into her bed. She was just getting comfortable when Derek crept in with a whine and crawled under the covers beside her.

“You’re getting spoiled,” she said, but felt a bittersweet twinge in her chest as she remembered falling asleep this way with Jackson. She spoke softly in the dark, knowing he wouldn’t understand, but needing to get it off her chest. “I wanted a baby doll to play with when I was younger, but not the fake ones. My father went against my mother’s wishes and bought me Jackson. He was hideously expensive, but my dad wanted to show off when he’d jumped into a higher tax bracket.”

Derek huffed against Lydia’s neck and squeezed her.

“Don’t interrupt, I’m talking,” she said automatically, and he relaxed. “He was so smart, he picked up on talking really quickly, and knew that he could only do it when we were alone. Puberty came, and we didn’t realize the things we were doing were wrong. Just touching and rubbing off on each other, but I caught him masturbating a few times and he let me do it for him because he trusted me…or because he couldn’t say no.” She snuggled deeper into Derek’s arms. “I’d learned about slavery and what it meant to live oppressed. I felt terrible about treating Jackson like property even though he was as smart as my classmates.”

Lydia thought about Jackson as she fell asleep and wondered how much he’d come to hate her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With an ensemble cast, everyone needs closure.


	34. Parting of the ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story. I will likely add small snippets as separate stories to wrap up individual story lines.

The move to the new apartment went smoothly, and Peter surprised Isaac and Stiles with a new set of living room furniture and a massive flat-screen television but wasn’t there to help set it up or carry anything. They had an open-house to let everyone see their new place, but to make it more casual than a house-warming party. Malia brought up a set of giant potted plants that she said would withstand a lot of neglect, and Kira gave them a year of Netflix. John and Melissa arrived with her apple empanadas and his toolbox so he could install proper locks on the doors.

“I need my boys to be safe,” John said, and gripped Isaac’s shoulder. It was subtle, but Stiles thought the Omega Were’s eyes were a little shiny after the sheriff’s unofficial acknowledgement of Isaac as another family member. Chris helped them install the television and put together the furniture with John’s tools. Melissa made up the beds once they were properly assembled. Stiles’s old bed went in one of the guest rooms and the fourth bedroom remained empty. Two small bedrooms with a shared bath were at the center of the apartment off the living/dining/kitchen area with two mirrored master suites at either end.

The two Omegas ordered pizza when Scott arrived with Deaton. Stiles noticed that Isaac was starting to relax with the people who were still fairly new to him, but he could sense a bit of underlying anxiety. Once Lydia had made her appearance with tasteful, yet masculine pieces that suited the space and took over the apartment, it felt real. A small statue here, some wall art there, and a few throw rugs made the place look homier and more mature than either man felt. She also gave them some wine glasses and Jordan brought a pair of customized pilsners with a six pack of craft beer, but they kept her visit brief, since it was late, and she could tell Isaac was getting a little nervous. She hugged him tightly and then Stiles before departing.

Isaac and Stiles were alone around nine when the Omega Were stiffened up in his seat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Company,” Isaac said, and dropped his hands into his lap. Stiles had just picked up his phone when the buzzer blared.

“I’ll go see who it is,” he said, mildly and went to the door. He pressed the answer button and the face of a twin grinned back at him. He couldn’t tell which one from the crappy, fish-eye lens that distorted his face, but he guessed it was the straight one because he had a tenser smile. “Isaac’s Deli! No one beat’s his meat!”

“Shut up, Asshole,” Isaac snarled, but the twin’s smile got a little friendlier.

“Hey, Isaac.” The other twin bobbed into view holding a plant and waggled his tongue. Vicious apex predators or not, they were still guys and would still act like idiots in front of a camera. “Can we come up and see the new place?”

Isaac looked furtive, and Stiles stalled.

“What’s the password?” The twins looked at each other and the sharper one tapped his chin thoughtfully while the other one stuck his finger up his nose and pretended to lick it in front of the camera.

“Ulysses S. Grant.”

“Let him in,” Isaac said, relaxing and putting his feet on the coffee table. “He lost a bet three years ago and still owes me fifty bucks.”

“You may enter,” Stiles said and buzzed them in. “Second elevator past the ugly water feature.” He walked back to the couch and gave Isaac an inquiring look, but the Omega gave him a smile and a nod. “Remember what we talked about?”

“Anyone who asks about moving in gets told we’re raising tarantulas in the guest room?”

“The other thing.”

“Right, keep boundaries.”

“And?” Stiles waited but Isaac looked confused. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said and swatted Isaac’s legs.

“Oh, right. No shoes on the coffee table.” He took off his sneakers and threw them towards the door.

“Right, now go greet your guests, I’m not your maid.” Stiles went to the bathroom to pee and when he got back, he heard voices.

“Hey, guys.” Ethan and Aiden were standing a little awkwardly beside the door and to his surprise, Jackson was there too. “At least one of you has manners,” he nodded to where Jackson was taking off his shoes by the door. “Beer? Soda?” He asked, lightly. “Come on in.” Jackson nodded and followed, carrying a wine bag with him.

“You can open this if you want,” he said holding the bag by the handles.

“Someone finally brought us some Booze!” he called out, as Isaac hugged each of the twins and scented them. He and Jackson both watched, curiously. “It’s like in French class when our teacher told us that if we went to school in Paris, we’d shake hands and kiss our friends each day for a greeting.” He felt a wired cork and his expression changed to excitement. “She was trying to get us to stop acting like a bunch of monkeys and propositioning each other with the lyrics to _Lady Marmalade_.”

“Did it work?” Jackson asked, sliding onto a bar stool.

“We just propositioned each other with kisses and handshakes, but we were fourteen.” He whistled in appreciation when he pulled out the bottle of Veuve Clicquot. “Okay, since none of you guys can get drunk, I’m just gonna hang out in my bedroom with this bottle.”

“No way,” Isaac said, running over. “I’ve only had Champagne one or twice.”

“You’re underage!”

“I can’t get drunk!”

“I _suppose_ , since Lydia washed the flutes.” He went to the built-in wine glass holder where the new stemware from Lydia sparkled. He let Isaac pop the cork and didn’t complain when it bubbled over, but Jackson jumped forward to mop it up off the counter and scowled as he took over the job of pouring the drinks.

“You’re such a wife,” Ethan teased.

“Somebody needs to be,” Jackson rumbled, and Stiles liked how the slighter Beta had a much deeper voice than the massive twin who spoke with a high tenor. It balanced them and he saw how odd-couple suited they were. Jackson poured the bottle and they raised glasses in a toast. “To your beautiful home.” They clinked and drank, and Stiles could appreciate Lydia’s polish. The champagne was smooth, but Isaac wrinkled his nose a little bit at it.

“Kinda sour,” he said. And Stiles and Jackson shared a look.

“Brut is a dry Champagne,” Jackson said. “Give it a moment to breathe and it tends to be a little more balanced.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Aiden said.

“There’s beer in the fridge, or soda.”

“Sweet.” He offered his glass to Isaac who poured the remaining portion of Champagne into his own flute.

“I like it,” Ethan said and nodded to Jackson. “Good choice.”

“Thanks, there’s a guy at work who works part time for a distributor,” he said. “He said if I want stuff by the case, he can order it wholesale.”

“I might hit you up at Christmas,” Stiles said. “Where are you working?”

“Just starting out.” The Beta shrugged and ducked his head. “Josephine’s restaurant was hiring a few weeks ago and I went by, just to check it out. They prefer people who speak French and I was managing to pronounce the menu, so he hired me on the spot.”

“Nice.” Stiles smiled at him. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around?”

“For a bit. But there’s no reason for me not to work.” He said it lightly, but it was clearly heavy for the Were. “I’m…glad to be able to do it.”

“Can I afford to eat there?” Stiles asked.

“I hope someone can,” he said with a chuckle. “I know I can’t on a waiter’s salary.” He was happy, the human could see. He was happy that he had the limitations of his own earnings.

“Nice T.V.” Aiden was staring at the wall with the big screen.

“Gift from Peter,” Stiles said, going over to pick up the Styrofoam that littered the floor underneath. Jackson helped him stuff it into a plastic bag and clean up.

“I feel like I’m playing house,” Isaac said, draining his glass. “This is better after it breathes.” As the resident teenager, he poured what little remained in the bottle into his glass. “Want the tour?”

The Weres loved the balcony, but Jackson went mad for the closets.

“I can tell Lydia taught you fashion,” Stiles said and corrected himself when Jackson’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“It’s okay.” He didn’t offer anything more. “Do you know when the shelter will be back up and running? I’m guessing you’ll still want to work there, right?” Stiles was floored by the question and stared at Jackson with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. “You okay?”

“I’m not sure.” He pushed past the Were on the way back out to the kitchen and got himself a beer. He tried to twist off the cap, but it wasn’t that kind. He looked for his bottle opener, but it wasn’t unpacked.

“Beer crisis,” Ethan said and hopped over the back of the couch. “On it.” He used his thumb nail to pop the cap off and waited while Stiles chugged the whole bottle. “Form is good, no spill, aaaaaand, he nails the landing,” he finished as Stiles slammed the empty bottle onto the counter with a gasp. Jackson stood in the doorway.

“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing.”

“You didn’t,” Stiles said and sat heavily on one of the stools. “I just…I can’t picture the next few weeks once we’re all past this crisis.”

“We _are_ past it,” Isaac said, and then he also looked troubled. “We really are.” He let Aiden put an arm around his shoulders.

“Welcome to the hobo life.”

“I’m not a bum,” Isaac gestured to the apartment.

“A hobo’s more like a migrant worker.” Jackson put his hands in his pockets. “A Bum chooses not to work, a vagrant works just enough to get by, a hobo is just someone who moves around without a permanent home.”

“Oh.” Isaac looked at Stiles. “Am I on the lease?”

“Once you’ve got an identity, you may commit yourself to a nearly unbreakable contract with people who will likely not live up to all of their promises and leave you no recourse but to sue them civilly.” He smiled. “It’ll be like we’re married.”

“Really?”

“Holy shit, yes.” Aiden rolled his eyes. “Once we signed a lease with the landlord from Hell.” He looked at Ethan, I’m just glad we were using a fake ID, or that sleazebag would have ruined out credit. He was a lawyer.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to decide,” Stiles said.

“We don’t know where Duke’s going to be anyway,” Aiden said, “so it’s probably better if you don’t sign anything you can’t get out of, easily.” Isaac turned away when he said it and carefully picked up the glasses. Stiles could see the moment that both twins picked up on Isaac’s tension. He wondered if they smelled it or felt it. “Isaac?”

Jackson retreated to the couch and Stiles headed for the bathroom, claiming the beer was hitting his bladder. He peed and washed his hands, slowing his breathing so that Isaac would know he wasn’t worried about the other Omega. He came out when he heard the door slam, and saw Jackson standing near the door.

“Thank you for coming by, and for the Champagne.”

“You’re welcome, Stiles. It was good seeing you both.” He left and closed the door more quietly. Isaac was by the sink with his hands on the counter and his chin lowered to his chest. Stiles hopped up on the counter and waited for a moment.

“What happened?”

“I told them I wasn’t sure I’d stay with the pack.” He turned around with a face so pale his lips looked purple. “They were…upset.”

“How are you?”

“Upset.”

“I’m probably going to sound like Dr. Phil, but what upset you?”

“Maybe the way they didn’t seem to take me seriously?” He shrugged. “I think they thought I was just staying with you…until I calmed down.” His forehead creased. “They didn’t say it, so maybe not. But then they asked me how I thought Duke was going to feel when _another_ Beta abandoned him.” He licked his lips. “After everything he’s done for me.”

“Malia?”

“She told me she wants to stay with Peter for a while.” He rubbed his ear. “Kira might go with her parents to Seoul for a while. Her dad’s family is there.” He looked up at Stiles. “All Duke has left is Aiden, Ethan and me. He’ll be weaker without us.”

“Why aren’t they saying this to Kira and Malia?”

“The girls have…family.” His lips trembled.

“So do you.” He caught Isaac when the younger man came forward and hugged him, tightly. “Didn’t you hear my dad? I’m your big brother. Scotty is too, by default. Who knows, maybe Melissa will make Dad an honest man and he’ll be our step-brother.” He heard a soggy chuckle and a sniffle from Isaac.

“I know, I just. I _chose_ to go along with his plan. I agreed with it as the best way to find the people responsible for killing my pack.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“I’d have probably done the same thing as you if it happened to me. Your choices were limited, and your Alpha was injured.” He trailed off.

“But?”

“What was he waiting for?” Stiles turned away and covered his mouth with his hand. “Never mind what he did to me, or the fact that it didn’t even get him what he wanted. Why didn’t he wake you up?” He stopped talking when Isaac put a hand on his arm.

“I-I never heard his explanation.” The Omega Were was staring at the door. It took a moment before Stiles heard it too. _Tap. Tap. Tap._

“Jesus, that’s fucking creepy.” He didn’t bother to whisper, since he had no doubt that the Alpha had been listening to their conversation for a while. _Knock-knock._ “It’s open.” Stiles pulled himself back up onto the countertop of the kitchen island. “Evening, Duke.” Stiles’s voice was dry as paper.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’ll narrate my expressions, then. I’m rolling my eyes at your reminder that you’re blind in case the sunglasses and cane didn’t give it away.”

“Ethan and Aiden called you?” Isaac asked, he was calmer than Stiles thought he’d have been. He seemed resigned.

“They were upset,” Duke said. “I told them I would speak with you.”

“I asked you for space,” Isaac said, scratching the back of his head. “But you won’t honor that request because Aiden and Ethan are…upset?”

“I wanted to see you,” Duke said.

“I wanted space.” Isaac’s voice was quiet, but firm.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation, Isaac.” He turned to Stiles. “If you’re okay with me being here, of course.”

“I don’t trust you.” Stiles backed up a step. “I don’t know how many times you’ve been in my head, but violation is really not a boundary for you.”

“You have no reason to trust me.”

“Admitting to something I already know doesn’t make you more trustworthy.” Stiles kept his tone bland. “Instead of doing that, why don’t you tell Isaac why you didn’t wake him up when he got close enough. He could’ve helped you, and he could’ve told you what he knew. Isaac had your answers the whole time.”

“I finally had my pack back together, I felt like we were safe under one roof. It felt okay to wait until we had more time.”

“You knew we originally planned to put him with Derek for his heat.” He saw Isaac look at Duke, sharply. “We eventually relented and put him with you because of your rapport, but you could’ve started bringing back his awareness. You didn’t though, because getting knotted by Derek might get you what you wanted.”

“It might’ve.” He turned his eyes on Stiles. “I used every persuasion I could think of, even making Derek more hostile with pheromones in order to make him look less enticing.” He didn’t reach for Isaac, but he implored him. “I told myself you’d signed up for the long haul, and we were all safe together so we could wait it out, but ultimately, I just couldn’t do that to you.”

“No, you did it to me instead.” The human’s voice was like acid. “We could’ve been helping you for over a year, but you wouldn’t share. You wanted to be the guy pulling the strings.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“There’s no guarantee that you’d have figured-”

“Lydia got it figured out within twenty-four hours of having Derek with her. We’ve been the ones figuring everything out while you just sat around and waited for Isaac to do your undercover work. He could’ve been killed.”

“He agreed to the risk.”

“You didn’t. You were safer than all of them. The twins had to keep moving around but staying close enough to take orders from you while living on day labor wages. Malia and Kira could’ve been killed by hunters who don’t follow the law, while you were in the safest possible place.”

“Once I had my pack under the same roof, I planned to take all of them and the Hales,” Duke said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. I told you before that my plan was for Jones to let everyone out, but he couldn’t get to Isaac and the women. Jones wouldn’t let Peter bite him, but he solved the problem on his own by biting your friends.” He looked a little frustrated. “I had a plan.”

“You told me before that you were going to compel me to let Peter out, but when you saw my memories, you changed your mind.”

“It was wrong, I know.”

“You wanted everyone else to do the hard work. You risked my life, and decided that rape was okay if there was a chance he’d be easier to handle. You didn’t know the bite would work, you didn’t know knotting would work, you just threw all of the employees at him like cannon fodder.” He smiled bitterly. “We were worthless to you.” He saw that Isaac was crying. “You didn’t choose to do it because it was the only way, you chose it because it was the way that was safest and easiest for _you_ and you alone.”

Duke took in a breath and straightened up, but he didn’t say anything else. Stiles realized why when he heard a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” Isaac said, quietly.

Chris and Peter walked in with closed expressions. “Thanks for the T.V.,” he said to Peter.

“You’re welcome, Isaac.” He gave the Omega a soft smile. “Duke, it’s time for you to leave. We’ve cooperated and you’ve shared information as agreed. We’ll keep you informed of the progress with our contacts, and if you want to be part of it, you can. We’re cooperative partners, but you’ve hurt too many people, including your own Betas to be an official Ally.”

“I understand.” Duke was clearly disappointed, and he turned in Isaac’s direction one last time. “You’ll always have a place with me,” he said.

“No, you have no place in my life.” Isaac wiped away his tears. “Even before Stiles said something, I did wonder why you took so long letting me come back. It’s because you wanted someone to need you. You wanted a purpose, and having me…handicapped and relying on you-”

“I love you, Isaac. As your Alpha, and your friend.”

“You used me. We all might’ve been desperate once, but you could’ve had Deaton and Chris rounding us all up a year ago.” He looked at Stiles. “I asked you before to leave me alone. At the very least, I don’t want the reminder of what happened.”

“Consolation prize,” Chris interrupted and tossed a bottle to Duke, who caught it without looking. “This might restore your eyesight. One of the weapons Julia Bacari developed was a wolfsbane flash bomb, and that’s what she used to stop you from protecting your Betas and blinded you.”

“We think we have a cure, or at least a treatment that may be testable in a few weeks,” Peter added, mildly. “We’ll keep you informed of that as well.”

Duke left without another word and Isaac held it together for several minutes.

“That went well,” he finally said, and Stiles let out a laugh/sob and hugged him.

“What about Jackson?”

“I made the offer to let him stay or find another pack. He’ll either leave tonight, or he’s under my protection.” Peter shrugged. “If Lydia doesn’t want him around, I’ll see that he goes where he’ll be accepted, but I keep my word.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for college,” Isaac said. “I think I’d rather just work for now.” He looked at Peter. “Will you be my Alpha? And can I get a new identity…and can you fake me a GED?”

“Yes.” Peter ducked Chris’s look. “I’m new at being a father, I still think like an uncle.” He shrugged unapologetically. “He’s been through enough; I think he deserves a little break. People forget everything they’ve learned their senior year, anyway. If he decides to go to school later, it’s his responsibility to catch up.”

“Maybe Lydia can tutor me in French,” Isaac suggested. “I hear there’s an expensive restaurant hiring.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning some follow-up stories because Derek's plot is open-ended. I wanted to wrap up Duke. I didn't want to make him evil, but I didn't want to brush over his actions. 
> 
> *****I am also consulting with an artist for some fanart for the story. If you have suggestions for scenes you'd like to see, let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome comments and questions. 
> 
> The warnings are there, don't like? don't read.


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